Darcy's Christmas Carol
by LadyPakal
Summary: I was writing another story when this idea took hold of my mind. When Netherfield party left to spend Christmas in London, what if Darcy was given the chance to see the error of his ways. I hope you enjoy and please let me know your thoughts.
1. Chapter 1

My father was dead. There was no doubt at all about that. Our doctor agreed, and I had signed the register of his burial along with the clergyman, the clerk and the undertaker. George Darcy was as dead as it was possible to be.

His funeral took place on a bleak, damp, late December day. Christmas was almost upon us, although I had never felt less festive than at this time. My Uncle and his three sons also attended the interment, and then returned with me to Pemberley where my young sister and other female relatives—my two aunts and a cousin—awaited.

On this day of all days, I was in no mood for talk; the thought of participation in the banal chatter generally entered into over the funeral breakfast left me cold.

However, my mother's sister, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was determined, as always, to have her say. As I entered the house, I heard her voice booming from within the drawing room. "Where is my nephew? I must speak with him about an important matter."

I looked at my uncle and he rolled his eyes.

"I apologise for her, Darcy. I expect you would like a moment to yourself?"

I nodded, indicating that I would remove to my study.

"I will distract her for you, cousin," said the second eldest Fitzwilliam, who was just then a Captain in the regulars.

"I thank you, Fitzwilliam. I will join you shortly."

However, no length of time would prove enough to avoid all speech with my aunt. Her mind was set on one thing, and one thing alone. My marriage to her daughter, Anne.

She harangued me from dawn 'til dusk for some days. "It was the dearest wish of your dear departed mother. We made the match while you were in your cradles."

I knew there had been no such agreement, I still remembered my mother's last words to me, and I was adamant in refusing my aunt's demands. But she would have none of it. Her word was to be law and any dissenting words she did not want to hear, she simple overrode.

Only my uncle could stop her. "Give him some time, Cathy. He is only just bereaved and is in mourning. He has far too many responsibilities to Pemberley and his sister, to be thinking of marriage at this time." When she tried to reiterate her demands, he stated. "Leave it, now!"

My aunt took her daughter and left in a huff, stating she expected my usual visit at Easter to review her accounts. Her unsaid words, accompanied by a frown, implied that she would use that time to continue with her demands regarding my marriage to her daughter.

Eventually the others also left, leaving my sister and I to our grief over the loss of the father who had been our only remaining parent. We were now orphans, with only each other to cling to.

This mention of my father's death brings me back to where I started.

There can be no doubt that he was dead. This must be distinctly understood or nothing wonderful will come of the story that will be related.

I was full young, at the age of two and twenty, to accede to the head of my family, but I assumed the name Darcy and took control of my legacy with a firm and steady hand. It was a heavy burden at first, but I gradually made the position my own, earning respect from my peers and relations. I continued in the care of the Darcy family and estate, as well as the care of my sole relation by full blood, my sister Georgiana.

People say that I am a proud and disagreeable man, cold in behaviour to those I meet, but most especially those I consider beneath me. It can hardly be a surprise. Every woman I had so far met, no matter their status, was out to capture me for my fortune. Not a one of them cared about the man beneath. I could not enter a room without rumours of my wealth and marital status circulating via whispers. Soon after arrival, I would be hunted—there is no other word for it—by matrons and their daughters determined to be the one to catch me in their snares.

I had no intention of being so trapped by anyone. If I could resist my Aunt Catherine's attempts to bind me to her daughter, I would not fall victim to anyone else's lures.

Some, growing desperate, tried to trick me into compromising situations, but my more experienced cousins shielded me from their wiles until I grew wise to their attempts.

My heart, thus far at least, was untouched by any woman I had met, and I had determined to guard it well. It was never to be given to someone who cared only for what I could give her. She had to look beneath my external reserve to the man beneath. Finding a suitable woman was, however, proving difficult. So far, no-one of an appropriate social standing seemed capable of seeing and appreciating my true self, and the idea of marrying beneath me was especially abhorrent. My mother had been an Earl's daughter and nothing less than that would do for me, if only I could find one that I sufficiently liked and who liked me in return.

This was why, two months short of six years on from the day of the funeral, and after a visit with Charles Bingley, a good friend who had recently taken a house called Netherfield in Hertfordshire, I found myself uncertain and yet determined at the same time. For, having met there a young lady of no standing in society and minimal dowry, I had been bewitched and was having trouble expunging her memory from my mind. I had even gone so far as to persuade my friend, who had conceived a strong attraction to this lady's older sister, not to return thither. The fact that his sisters were in agreement with me helped this along, although I was unhappy about aligning myself with his youngest sister, who also looked upon me with a rapacious eye.


	2. Chapter 2

It was Christmas eve, and I sat alone in my study, in Darcy House in London, dealing with some few matters of business. It was freezing cold weather, foggy without, and I could hear the people and carriages in the street outside. My mantle clock had only just chimed three, but it was quite dark already; in truth it had not been light all day. My study window looked out across the square and candles were guttering in the windows of the neighbouring houses, like orange dots smeared onto the ghostly atmosphere. The fog was so dense without, that the houses opposite were mere phantoms.

The door to my study was part-open, that I might keep half an eye on the comings and goings and yet remain undisturbed. My sister was in the back parlour and was that afternoon entertaining visitors that I wished to avoid, Charles Bingley's sisters, especially his youngest, Caroline who, much like a burr, was trying to attach herself to me in a more permanent fashion.

Not that I was getting much work done. My mind was in a turmoil, unable to forget the young lady from Hertfordshire. I knew, logically, she was unsuitable, that marriage to her would be impossible, but my heart felt otherwise and would not be subdued.

A knock at the front door briefly drew my attention, a small commotion in the hallway, and then soon after a cheerful voice cried from the doorway, "A Merry Christmas, Darcy! God save you!" It was the voice of my cousin, Fitzwilliam, now promoted to Colonel, who came upon me without introduction, as was his usual habit.

"Ah, Fitzwilliam!" I said, startled by his approach. "Must you always spring on me without warning!"

He had obviously walked here rapidly from Matlock House in the fog and frost, and was all in a glow, his face ruddy and handsome and his eyes sparkling. I was forcibly reminded of another flushed face, her eyes brilliant from a long walk across the fields to Netherfield. I shook the image away, impatient with my contrary memories.

"But of course, cousin. How else will you know you are still alive?" said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I come bearing an invitation; Christmas dinner at Matlock House. My mother requests, nay demands, your presence."

"I understand Georgiana will be attending, but I must decline," I said. "I have much to do and not enough time to do it in."

"Then my mother will be disappointed. She has not seen you since your return from Hertfordshire. I am only here today, because she was threatening to come herself to force your attendance."

I threw my pen down with a huff. "Take her my apologies, then, but I still must decline."

"So grumpy, Darcy? I must wonder why." He eyed me, then sighed. "Very well, I will tell her, but she will be most displeased. A Merry Christmas to you anyway, cousin, even though you will take little part in it."

"Merry Christmas! What right do you have to be merry? What reason do you have to be merry?"

"I am alive despite the best intentions of Napoleon's army, what better reason," returned my cousin, "What right then do you have to be so dismal? What reason to be so morose?"

I had no answer ready on the spur of the moment, none that I would wish to share, so simply said, "Bah!"

"Don't be cross, cousin!" said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"What else can I be," I returned, "when I live in such a world of fools as this. Merry Christmas! Pah! What's Christmas time but a time for parties and balls, for finding yourself stalked and hunted for nothing other than your title or fortune? When clusters of Mistletoe hang and rapacious harpies cluster beneath waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting. When these same women go out of their way to attract a man they would not like, were he poor."

"Darcy!" pleaded my cousin.

"Fitzwilliam!" I returned sternly. "Keep Christmas in your own way and let me keep it in mine."

"Keep it!" repeated Colonel Fitzwilliam. "But you don't keep it, not since your mother left us. Even your father, in his sorrow, participated in some of the festivities of the season."

I waved an arm dismissively. "Let me leave it alone then," I said. "I have never had much time for Christmas. There is too much work to be done at the turn of the year."

"You need a break, Darcy. It is only for a few hours, that is all we ask. It will do you good to get away from work for a short time."

"Work does me good. Eating and talking with people when I do not wish for company will do me no good. There is nothing to be gained spending my time in that way."

"There are many things from which good might be derived, I dare say," returned the Colonel. "Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; a time for families to gather and for love to spread its wings over all; therefore, cousin, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will continue to do me good!"

Charles Bingley was currently staying as a guest in my home and had been sitting with my sister while she entertained his two sisters. He had left them, likely driven away by their talk of feminine fripperies, to join me and coming upon the end of this speech, involuntarily applauded.

I rolled my eyes and waited for the applause to stop. To my cousin, I said, "You're quite a powerful speaker, Fitzwilliam. I wonder you don't go into Parliament."

He shuddered. "I cannot think of anything I would enjoy less. I shall leave that to my brother." Again, he looked at me with something akin to pity. "Don't be angry, Darcy. I come with an invite, nothing more. Do join us for dinner tomorrow. My younger brother and his new wife will be there."

"I think not," came the reply.

"But why?" cried my cousin. "Why?"

"Why did he get married, given she is far below him in status and dowerless?" I said.

"Because he fell in love with her."

"Because he fell in love!" I growled, as if that were the only thing in the world more ridiculous than a Merry Christmas. "He could have done so much better. If he had chosen a well dowered wife, he could have employed a curate and lived the life he was born to."

"But cousin, he enjoys his work. It is his true calling and he has no desire to give it up. Besides, you rarely saw him before his marriage. Why give it as a reason for not coming now?"

"Good afternoon!" I said, unable to form a rebuttal. I was angry, and I dare say jealous, that another could follow their heart while I was unable, not that I could ever admit it to him.

"I want nothing from you. We ask nothing of you but your company."

"You will have Georgiana's company, that will have to suffice!"

"I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. I have made the invitation at the request of my mother and I will pass on your decision, but I will keep my Christmas humour to the last. A Merry Christmas, cousin! I will look in on Georgiana before I leave."

I nodded and picked up my pen.

"And a Happy New Year!" Colonel Fitzwilliam left the room without an angry word. He stopped to bestow the greetings of the season on Charles Bingley, who returned them cordially.

As my cousin left, Bingley entered, taking up a newspaper and seating himself by the fire. I had just resumed my work when his sisters, Mrs Hurst and Miss Caroline Bingley, entered. They had not heard the previous debate, which can only be why they made me another unwelcome invitation.

"Mr Darcy," said Miss Bingley. "I do hope we are not interrupting."

I threw down my pen again with a grunt.

Miss Bingley continued, "At this festive time of the year, we have come to offer an invitation."

"An invitation?" I said, resting my forehead on my hand and closing my eyes briefly. So many interruptions were making my head ache.

"Indeed," she replied. "For tomorrow. We come to invite you, and dear Georgiana, to a family Christmas dinner in our home. Your sister deferred to your opinion, but she seemed keen to accept."

"My sister is promised to Lady Matlock's for dinner tomorrow. I shall be remaining here." I looked down at my ledger, realising something as I noted the date. "Do you know what day this is?" I asked.

"It is Christmas Eve, to be sure," cried Miss Bingley.

"It is an anniversary," I corrected. "My father died six years ago this very night."

Miss Bingley frowned. "Six years. A lengthy time indeed and his estate could not have passed into more worthy hands. But I know not why that is that a reason not to join us for dinner?"

"I do not make merry myself at Christmas and I will not join others while they make merry. I wish to be left alone. My sister will be dining with relatives and I…' I picked up my pen once more, 'I will not. My apologies, ladies, but I must continue with my work."

Somewhat offended but clearly seeing that it would be useless to pursue their point, the ladies withdrew. I resumed my labours with satisfaction and in the hopes of no further interruption.

Mr Bingley remained. He stood, poured himself a brandy, then shaking out the newspaper, resettled himself by the fire. Meanwhile, without, the fog thickened, and the cold became more intense.

Sounds of a Christmas carol drifted down from the music room into the study.

_"God rest you merry, Gentlemen,_

_Let nothing you dismay…"_

I muttered, stood and rose to slam the study door shut.

"I was quite enjoying that, old chap," said Bingley.

"Then go sit with them and listen to it. I need to concentrate, and it was disturbing my concentration."

Mr Bingley gave him a considering look. "You know, Darcy, you've been in a foul mood since we returned from Hertfordshire."

"I have a lot of work to do and little enough time to do it," I said, sitting back at my desk.

"I was thinking…" began Bingley, hesitating. The silence lengthened as he stared at the fire.

I threw down my quill and it bounced, leaving an ink blot on the desk. I grabbed a scrap of blotting paper to dab it up. "Well, spit it out, man. What were you thinking?"

Bingley looked over, his eyes dim. "Oh, just about Netherfield. I dare say it doesn't matter." He turned to stare into the fire again.

"About Netherfield," I repeated. "It is yours until the Autumn, is it not? What are your plans?"

"My plans…" He laughed, a bitter, unamused tone in the sound. "Whatever my plans were, it seems they will not come to be." He turned his head to stare at me, his eyes blank. "I expect I shall give it up. My sisters are opposed to going there again, as indeed are you." He turned back to the fire and fell silent.

I stared for a few moments. Bingley was not usually so thoughtful, so caustic. He was a jolly sort, who usually leapt before he thought. To see him so pensive and negative was unusual. Was I wrong about his feelings for the eldest Bennet daughter? I shook my head. His feelings were irrelevant, given her lack of emotion for him. He will soon enough find another pretty face to admire, no doubt. After a long moment regarding his distracted form, I shrugged, grunted and picked up my quill again. Soon after, all that could be heard was the crackle of the fire, and the scratching of the quill.

At length, Bingley examined the clock and stood.

"You are away then?" I said, roused by the movement.

"I am and I do not plan on being back this evening," Mr Bingley agreed. "I shall stay at the Hurst's. I'm sure you understand the family commitment. You know, it would do you good to relax with family for a day. Maybe you'd regain some of your usual good humour."

"Doubtful," I grunted. "I'll expect to see you here the day after, then."

Mr Bigley promised that he would return thence and left the study. Soon after, the sounds of his and his sisters leaving taking were heard, and silence once more descended on Darcy House.


	3. Chapter 3

Once our guests had left, my sister came to my study. She hovered in the doorway, a wistful look on her face, waiting for my acknowledgement, before entering. I put down my pen and beckoned her in. She entered, eyes downcast.

"Brother, it seems I will be dining with the Matlock's tomorrow. I am looking forward to it, but…" She peeped up at me before dropping her gaze back to the floor. "I do hope you will change your mind and come with me. We spend little enough time together as it is."

"I'm sorry, Georgie, but I am not in the mood for family revels."

Her face fell and shoulder slumped. For a moment I felt guilty, but I was in no condition to deal with questions from my cousins—Fitzwilliam especially being adroit at winkling out my secrets. My shameful longing must be kept hidden from all.

After confirming that I would not accompany her the following day, she declared herself tired and retired early, taking her evening meal in her room and leaving me to a solitary dinner in the dining room. I felt the slight but shrugged it off.

Returning to the study, I perused the newspaper, read a few chapters of my book and then decided to retire to my rooms, snuffing the candles as I went, and leaving the room lit only by the dying fire. It was very late and the houses across the square were in darkness.

The door to my study has a large, decorative wood carving on either side. There is nothing special about it at all and I had seen it, night and morning, during my whole residence in Darcy House. I'm not a fanciful man, but as I put my hand on the doorknob, the carving changed from elaborate wooden shapes to my father's face.

George Darcy's face. It was not in shadow like the other objects in the room, but it had a dismal, luminescent, greenish light about it. It was not angry or ferocious but looked at me as he used to look; peering at me over ghostly spectacles perched on the tip of his ghostly nose. The hair was constantly stirred, as if by the breath of hot air; and though the eyes were wide open, they were perfectly motionless and staring. The face bore a livid colour, making it horrific, but not horrible. I was not afraid of it, but I backed away from the door, and stared fixedly at this phenomenon. Without seeming to change, without me even blinking, it was a carving again.

To say that I was not startled, or that there was no odd whirling sensation in my innards, would be untrue. But I put my hand back onto the doorknob I had relinquished, turned it sturdily and walked out, collecting a lit candle from the hallway table beside the door, that had been left for me by the footman before he retired.

I did pause, with a moment's irresolution, before pulling the door closed behind me, and I did look cautiously at it, as if I half expected to see George Darcy's body sticking out into the hall. But there was nothing on the door, except the expected panelling and a carving matching the one found on the study side of the door, so I shook my head and closed it with a bang.

The sound resounded through the house like thunder. Not a man frightened by echoes, I locked the door, walked across the hall, and up the stairs, trimming my candle as I went.

My chambers were located on the next floor; the master's suite of rooms consisting of a bedroom, sitting room and dressing room. It was a dark and gloomy suite, never much changed in decoration from my father's time. My mother had meant to freshen the rooms before my sister had been born, but as the family spent much of the time at Pemberley, she had never got around to it.

Gaining my rooms, I walked through them to see that all was well before shutting the heavy door. My valet, despite having been told to go to bed earlier, was waiting but I had just enough recollection of the face in the door to desire to ensure that, apart from Jenkins who was nodding in a chair by the dying fire, I was alone.

Sitting-room, bedroom, dressing room. All as they should be. The sitting room was empty of others and a decanter and glass sat ready for my usual bedtime drink. The bedroom had no surprises and the dressing room was empty of extraneous persons, as usual. Even the door between the sitting room and the Mistress's unused bedchamber remained locked.

Quite satisfied, I closed the door, startling Jenkins awake. He helped me off with my coat, cravat and boots, and as he put these items away, I donned my banyan and slippers, poured myself a brandy and sat down by the fire to enjoy my nightcap.

Jenkins finished tidying away my belongings, then wished me a good night and left.

The memory of the face rose up again in my mind as I sipped my brandy, so I went to both the sitting room and bedroom doors and locked myself in. Double locked myself in, which was not my custom. I even locked the door to the dressing room. Thus, reassured against surprise, I went back to my chair and resumed my seat by the fire.

I had stayed below for longer than planned and, with Jenkins having dozed while waiting for my arrival, it was a very low fire indeed, nothing on such a bitter night. I was obliged to add more logs, to encourage the flames, and then sit close to it, before I could extract the least sensation of warmth. The fireplace was an old one and inlaid with decorative tiles designed to illustrate the Scriptures. Hundreds of Biblical figures to attract my thoughts; and yet that ghostly face of my father, six years dead, came and swallowed up the whole. If each smooth tile had been a blank at first, had they been able to make visible my thoughts, there would have been a copy of my father's head on every single one.

"Nonsense!" I muttered and walked across the room.

After several turns, I sat down again. As I leaned my head back in the chair, my glance happened to rest on a bell, a disused bell that hung in the room, and communicated—for some purpose now forgotten—with the nursery. It was with great astonishment, and with a strange, inexplicable dread, that as I looked, this bell began to swing. It swung so softly in the outset that it scarcely made a sound, but soon it rang out loudly, and so, it seemed, did every other bell in the house.


	4. Chapter 4

It might have lasted half a minute, or a minute, but it seemed like an hour. The bells ceased as they began, all together. I sprang to my feet, expecting a servant to come dashing along to explain the disturbance, but there was dead silence.

Then, a clanking noise rose up from down below, as if some person were dragging a heavy chain over casks in a wine cellar. The noise became much louder, on the floor below, coming up the stairs, then coming straight towards my door.

"It's nonsense still!" I said, "I won't believe it."

I fell back into my chair, when without a pause, it came through the heavy door and passed into the room before my eyes. Upon its coming in, the flame from the fire leapt up, as if it cried, "I know him. It's my old master!" and fell again.

The same face, the very same. George Darcy in his usual coat, waistcoat, pantaloons and boots; the tassels on the latter bristling like a brush, spectacles on his nose and the black hair shot through with grey upon his head. The chain he drew was clasped about his middle and held with large padlocks. Attached to the chain were many other objects, like bars of metal. The chain was thick, long and wound about him like a tail. Hs body was transparent, so that anyone, observing him, and looking through his coat could see the two buttons on his waistcoat behind.

Though I saw the phantom standing before me, though I felt the chilling influence of its cold eyes and marked the very texture of the folder kerchief bound about its head and chin, I was still incredulous and fought against my senses.

"What is this?" I said, my voice strong despite the quavering within. "What do you want with me?"

"Much!" It was my fathers' voice, no doubt about it. But still, this must be some sort of ruse, although I was hard pushed to understand the joke.

"Wh—Who are you?"

"Ask me who I was."

"Who were you, then?" I said, raising my voice. "You're mighty particular, for a shade."

"In life, I was your father, George Darcy, but you knew that Fitzwilliam."

I started when it said my name, and I looked doubtfully at him. "Can you—can you sit down?"

"I can."

"Then do so."

I asked the question, because I didn't know whether a ghost so transparent might find himself in a condition to take a chair. but the ghost sat down on the opposite side of the fireplace, as if he were quite used to it.

"You don't believe in me," observed the ghost.

"I don't," I said.

"Yet I sit here, and you can see and converse with me. What evidence would you have of my reality beyond that of your senses?"

"I could not say,"

"Why do you doubt your senses?"

"Because," I said, "any little thing can affect them. A light disorder of the stomach or a mild fever makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a crumb of mouldy cheese, or even the fever from a head cold." I held up my glass. "Maybe even this brandy!"

The truth is, that I tried to be smart, as a means of distracting myself from my fear, for the spectre's voice disturbed the very marrow in my bones.

Silence fell and I felt that to sit, staring at those fixed, glazed eyes would play the very deuce with me if it continued for too long. There was something very awful, too, in the spectre's being provided with an infernal atmosphere of its own. I could not feel it myself, but this was clearly the case, for though the Ghost sat perfectly motionless, his hair, coat and tassels were still agitated as by the hot vapour from an oven.

"You see this decanter?" I said, indicating the table and wishing, though it were only for a second, to divert the vision's stony gaze from me.

"I do," said the Ghost.

"You are not looking at it," I said.

"But I see it," said the Ghost, "notwithstanding."

"Well!", I returned, "I have but to swallow more of its contents, to be persecuted by a legion of goblins, all of my own creation. Nonsense, I tell you!"

At this, the spirit raised a frightful cry and shook its chain with such a dismal and appalling noise, that I leaned back further into my chair. But how much greater was my horror, when the phantom took off the bandage round its head and its lower jaw dropped down upon its breast.

I clasped my hands before my face.

"Mercy!" I said, "Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?"

"Man of the world!" replied the Ghost, "do you believe in me or not?"

"I do," I said. "I must. But why do spirits walk the earth, and why do they come to me?"

"It is required of every man," the Ghost returned, "that the spirit within his should walk abroad among his fellowmen and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world—oh, woe is me—and witness what it cannot share, but might have on earth, and turned to happiness!"

Again, the spectre raised a cry, and shook its chain and wrung its shadowy hands.

"You are chained," I said, trembling, "Tell me why?"

"I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost. "I made it link by link, and yard by yard. I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is it's pattern strange to you?"

"It is indeed strange."

"It should be familiar to you, especially now." He held up one of the many bars attached to the chain, "Each of these is a magnetic bar that repels; I cannot go near to another shade bearing the same pattern. I am alone and will be forever more."

I trembled more and more.

"Would you know," pursued the Ghost, "The weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself and the number of magnets that decorate that chain? It is a ponderous load, indeed."

I glanced about me on the floor, in the expectation of finding myself surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of iron cable but could see nothing.

"Father," I said, imploringly, "tell me more. Speak comfort to me, father!"

"I have none to give," the Ghost replied. "That comes from elsewhere, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and is conveyed by those other than I, but not to you. Nor can I tell you everything I would like. Only a little more permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere. Never again can I rest. Mark me! In life my spirit never found its mate, and weary journeys lie before me until it does. Even when I do it will too late."

"You must have been very slow about it, father," I observed, in a business-like manner, thought with humility and deference.

"Slow!" the Ghost repeated.

"Six years dead," I mused, "and travelling all the time!"

"Six years dead," said the Ghost. "No rest, no peace. Incessant torture of remorse."

"You travel fast?"

"On the wings of the wind," replied the Ghost.

"You might have got over a great quantity of ground in six years," I said.

The Ghost on hearing this, set up another cry, and clanked its chain so hideously in the dead silence of the night, that the neighbours would have been justified in complaints about the noise.

"Oh! Captive, bound and bonded," cried the phantom. "It would take ages of constant labour by immortal creatures for all eternity before the people of the world could discover full development of the love for which they are possible. For a spirit to find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness should it bind itself to the wrong person. To know that no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused. Yet I did not! I did not, and I wasted what time I had!"

"But you were always a good husband, father and master," I faltered.

"Husband?" cried the ghost, wringing its hands again. "Husband I was, in name, but not as I should have been and not to who I should have been. There was much missing in my life that should have been there."

It held up its chain at arm's length, as if that were the cause of all its unavailing grief and flung it heavily upon the ground again.

"At this time of the rolling year," the spectre said, "I suffer most. Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down! Why would I not listen to fate, when it tried to conduct me to the soul I was destined to find? Why did I turn away from her, to face another?"

I was very much dismayed to hear the spectre speak so. "But what of mother? Does she suffer so?"

"All must do so, should they reject this gift. Hear me!" cried the Ghost. "My time is nearly gone."

"I will," I said, "But don't be hard upon me, father!"

"How is it that I appear before you in a shape that you can see, I may not tell. I have sat invisible beside you many a day."

It was not an agreeable idea. I shivered and wiped the perspiration from my brow.

"This is a heavier part of my penance. It is my last act as a father to you," pursued the Ghost. "I am here tonight to warn you. You have a chance and hope to escape my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Fitzwilliam."

"You were always good to me, Father," I said. "Thank you."

"You will be haunted," resumed the Ghost, "by three spirits."

My countenance fell almost as low as the Ghost's had done.

"Is this the chance and hope you mentioned, father?" I demanded, my heart pounding in my breast.

"It is."

"I—I think I'd rather not,"

"Without their visits," said the Ghost, "You cannot hope to avoid the path I tread. Expect the first tomorrow when the bell tolls one."

"Couldn't I take them all at once, and have it over, father?"

"Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third upon the next night when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. You will not see me again but, for your own sake, remember and pay heed to what has passed between us!"

Having said these words, the spectre took its wrapper from the table, and bound it round its head as before, and winced at the sharp sound its teeth made, when the jaws were brought together by the bandage. I ventured to raise my eyes again, and found my supernatural visitor standing, with its chain wound over and about its arm.

The apparition walked backward from me, and at every step it took, a window raised itself a little, so that when the spectre reached it, it was wide open.

It beckoned me to approach, which I did. When we were within two paces of each other, George Darcy's Ghost held up its hand, warning me to come no closer.

I stopped. Not so much in obedience, as in surprise and fear, for on the raising of the hand, I became sensible of confused noises in the air, sounds of lamentation and regret, wailings inexpressibly sorrowful and self-accusatory. The spectre, after listening for a moment, joined in the mournful dirge, and floated out upon the bleak, dark night.

I followed to the window, desperately curious to see what made these sounds, and looked out.

The air was filled with phantoms, restlessly floating hither and thither, and moaning as they went. Every one of them wore chains, loaded with magnetic bars, like George Darcy's Ghost. Some had been personally known to me in their lives. I had been quite familiar with one old ghost, in a white waistcoat, with a monstrous chain attached to its ankle. He wailed piteously as he approached a female ghost, who reached for him, fingertips almost touching. She bewailed her pain in turn that they were unable to draw closer together, their magnet loaded chains forcing them apart forever. The misery of all was, clearly, that they sought others, to gain comfort from touch, and had lost the power for ever.

Whether these creatures faded into the fog, or fog cloaked them, I could not tell. But they and their ghostly moans faded away, and the night became as it had been before I had retired for the night.

I closed the window and examined the door by which the Ghost has entered. It was still double-locked, as I had locked it myself, and the bolts were undisturbed. I tried to say "Nonsense!" but stopped at the first syllable. And being exhausted and much in need of repose, whether from the emotion I had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or my glimpse of the Invisible World, or the conversation with my father's Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, I went straight to bed without undressing and fell asleep upon the instant.


	5. Chapter 5

When I awoke, it was so dark, that looking out of bed I could hardly distinguish the window from the dark walls of my chamber. The fire had died away to nothing and gave off no light whatsoever. I was trying to pierce the darkness, when the chimes of the nearby church struck the four quarters, so I listened for the hour.

To my great astonishment, the heavy bell went on from six to seven, and from seven, to eight, and regularly up to twelve, then stopped. Twelve? It was after two when I went to bed. The clock was wrong. Something must have got into the works. Twelve!

"Why, Jenkins would have been here before now, had I slept through a whole day and far into another night. The same had something happened to the sun, and this be twelve at noon. So, what is happening?"

I was alarmed. Scrambling out of bed and groping my way to the window, I had to rub the frost off the inside of the window with my sleeve before I could see anything. I could see very little even then. All I could make out was that it was still very foggy and extremely cold. There was no noise of people or carriages outside, as there would have been if night had beaten off day and taken possession of the world. This was a great relief.

Feeling a chill, I went to bed again, and thought it over, and could make nothing of it. The more I thought, the more perplexed became, and the more I tried not to think, the more I thought.

George Darcy's Ghost bothered me exceedingly. Every time I resolved that it was all a dream, my mind flew back again, leaving me with the same problem to be worked all through, 'Was it a dream or not?'

I lay debating this point until the church clock tolled three quarters more. Then I remembered that the Ghost had warned me of a visitation when the bell tolled one. I resolved to lie awake until the hour was past and, considering that I could find no rest in sleep anyway, this was perhaps the only thing about this entire situation that I could control.

The quarter was so long coming, that, despite thoughts of my inability to sleep, I assumed I had dropped off into a doze and missed the clock, however, at length the bell broke upon my senses.

"Ding dong!"

"A quarter past," I said, counting.

"Ding dong!"

"Half-past!"

"Ding dong!"

"A quarter to it,"

"Ding dong!"

"The hour itself," I said, relieved, "and nothing else!"

However, I spoke before the hour bell sounded. When it chimed the single hour, in a deep, hollow, melancholy voice, a light flashed in the room upon the instant, and the curtains of my bed were drawn.

The curtains were drawn aside by a pale, delicate hand. Starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, found myself face to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them.

It was a strange figure—like a child, yet not so like a child as like an old woman, viewed through some supernatural medium, which gave her the appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a child's proportions. Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its back, was white as if with age, and yet the face, what little could be seen of it beneath a hood, had not a wrinkle in it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. The arms were long and slender, the hands and fingers the same. Its feet were bare. It wore a long dress of purest white, trimmed with summer flowers, a matching cape, decorated with autumn leaves and a deep fur-lined hood pulled down so that only the mouth and chin were visible. Around its waist was bound a lustrous belt, the sheen of which was beautiful, and decorated with spring flowers and green leaves in bud. Representing the last of the four seasons, it held a branch of fresh green holly resplendent with red berries. But the strangest thing about it was that from the crown of its covered head there sprang a bright, clear jet of light, by which all this was visible. Under its arm it carried a great extinguisher cap which was likely used to dim the light in need.

However, when I looked at it with increasing steadiness, the light was not its strangest quality. For as its belt sparkled and glittered now in one part and now in another, and what was light one instant, as another time was dark, so the figure itself fluctuated in its distinctness, the shape flickering from one form to another, a body of dissolving parts, with no outline visible as it faded into a dense gloom. And then it would flicker and be itself again, as distinct and clear as ever.

"Are you the spirit, sir, who's coming was foretold to me?" I asked.

"I am!"

The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if, instead of being so close beside me, it came from a distance.

"Who, and what are you?" I demanded.

"I am the Ghost of Years Past."

"Long past?" I inquired.

"No. Your past."

I squinted up at the Ghost. "Would you…. Would you cover your head with your cap? I am used to the darkness. The light is blinding and pains my eyes. Could you reduce it a little?"

"Would you so soon put out the light that I give?" exclaimed the ghost. "Is it not enough that you are one of those who made this cap and forced me to wear it low upon my brow!"

"I mean no offence. It is merely that the light pains my eyes. I am sure I will grow accustomed," I hastily replied. "I have no memory of forcing that cap on you but will accept your reproof. May I enquire your business here?"

"Your welfare."

"I am obliged but cannot help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would be more conducive to my health."

"Your reclamation, then." It reached out as it spoke and clasped me gently by the arm.

"Come. Rise and walk with me!"

I tried to plead that the weather and the hour were not adapted to walking out; that my bed was warm, and the temperature outside freezing or that I was not wearing clothing suitable the outside. The grasp might have been gentle, but it could not be resisted. I rose reluctantly, but finding that the Spirit made towards the window, clasped my robe about me.

"I am a mortal," I remonstrated, "and liable to fall."

"Let me touch you here," said the Spirit, laying a hand upon my chest, directly above my heart, "and you shall be upheld in more than this. Do not be afraid! I have nothing but your welfare in mind."


	6. Chapter 6

As the words were spoken, we passed through the wall, and stood upon an open drive, with fields on either hand. The city had entirely vanished. Not a vestige of it remained to be seen. The darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground.

"Good Heavens!" I said, clasping my hands together, as I looked about me. "I was born and raised near here. This is the road to my home, Pemberley!"

The Spirit gazed upon me mildly. Its gentle touch, though it had been light and instantaneous, appeared still present to my sense of feeling. I was conscious of a thousand odours floating in the air, each one connected with a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and cares!

"Your lip is trembling," said the Ghost.

I muttered, "I assume we are here for a reason. Lead me where you will."

"You recollect the way?" inquired the Spirit.

"Of course, I do." I said. "I could walk or ride it blindfold."

"Then let us go on," said the Ghost.

We walked along the drive, until a large house fronted by a stream appeared in the distance. As we passed workers in the fields, I grew conscious of my unusual apparel and clasped my dressing gown at the neck.

"These are but shadows of the things that have been," said the Ghost. "They cannot see us, and we cannot interact with them."

We left the drive and soon approached the entrance to the manor house. Entering through the great doors, we went, the Ghost and I, inside the building and across the echoing hall, up the stairs and to a door on the first floor. It opened before us and disclosed a large sitting room. A boy was reading before a fire and I peered to read the title of the book. Recognition struck, and I sat down heavily upon a nearby chair, head in hands, as the memory of all that was to come that day came crashing down upon me.

A wailing cry drifted down the passage and the boy raised his head, listening. The cry suddenly cut off and he threw down his book and dashed for the door.

We followed, as the boy left the room and ran down the corridor to a place where others had gathered.

"Father?"

Before a reply was given, the door opened and a solemn faced woman stepped out, searching the faces of those gathered for the one she needed to address.

Catching the eye of the one she searched for, she said, "Mr Darcy. You may go in, your wife is asking for you."

A man—my father—stepped forward but hesitated when he saw the young boy had joined them. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, said, "Wait here, Fitzwilliam," then entered the room and closed the door.

I recognised those gathered. My father, who was now in the room. My uncle, the Earl, and his wife. My Aunt Catherine. The housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds. They were all there and I remembered well what this day was.

My uncle was speaking quietly with the solemn faced woman. "A daughter," she was saying. "And Mrs Darcy?" he asked. The woman, and I remembered now that she had been the midwife, shook her head.

I wept and watched as my younger self understood what she meant and shrivelled in despair.

"I wish," I muttered, putting my hand in my pocket, realising I had no handkerchief, and so drying my eyes with my cuff, "but it's too late now."

"What is the matter?" asked the Spirit.

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing. My sister was singing a Christmas Carol last night. I should like to have listened properly, that's all. She is so like her mother in looks and voice."

"Always a delicate creature, your mother, whom a breath might have withered," said the Ghost. "But she had a large heart."

"So she had," I cried. "You're right. I will not deny it, Spirit."

"She died a mother," said the Ghost, "and had, as I think, children."

"Just the two of us," I returned.

"True," said the Ghost. "Your sister was born on this day."

I felt uneasy in my mind; and answered briefly, "Yes."

"Come," said the Ghost, reaching out for my hand. "She yet breathes." The door to my mother's room opened before us.

I had never thought to see my mother alive again and to be given one more chance to do so was like heaven, whether she knew me or not, and so I entered the room eagerly.

The room was dimly lit, all light seemingly concentrated around the fire, one corner where a cradle sat, and the bed. In the bed lay a pale creature, her hair spread damply on her pillow, her eyes closed. Her breast moved gently with each shallow breath she took.

At her bedside sat Father, holding one of her hands. I drew closer.

"Anne, I am here."

Her eyes fluttered open. 'George? You came. Did you see. Our daughter is here, at last!" She smiled, her face pale and strained.

"I did. She is beautiful, like her mother."

Her hand fluttered as she became agitated. "Where is my son? Fitzwilliam? I must speak with him while there is yet time."

"He is just without. I will bring him." He gazed down at her for a few moments, then leaned in to kiss her brow. She smiled up at him and watched as he left the room. Just seconds later, he ushered Darcy's younger self inside and the boy rushed over to his mother, holding her hand as he tried stoically to hold back his tears. Father quietly left the room, leaving the two alone, apart from the Ghost and I, as silent witnesses to the scene.

He kissed her on her cheek. "Mama, I am here."

"My son." She touched his cheek with a trembling hand. "I have so many things I wished to tell you, but my time draws near so I must speak only of those of most import. Firstly, always look after your sister. Promise me, now."

"I promise, mama."

"Promise me you will only marry if you have affection for your wife. Do not marry for less than love. I hope you will live a long life, and it is too long to spend with someone you have no feelings for. I loved once, but it was not allowed. I regret…" Her eyes closed for some seconds, as if she had dropped asleep mid-speech, then they opened again, and a mild fire burned within. "I do not regret you, my son, or my daughter, but if I had my time again, I would fight for the choice of my heart. Promise me you will do the same!"

"I will mama, I promise. I love you, mama. Mama? Mama!"

My eyes blurred and the scene faded. Then the light grew again, and the scene had changed.


	7. Chapter 7

We were now outside a tavern in a busy street. The Spirit indicated the building and asked if I knew it.

"Know it!" I said, "I spent many evenings here with friends, between my studies."

We went in and my eyes were drawn to a table in the corner, where a group of young men had gathered. I cried out, "There, that was our usual table!"

We moved closer, and I took stock of those in the group other than my younger self. Besides George Wickham, my fathers' godson, there were two others; Viscount Carmichael, and The Honourable Richard Wilkins, who was second son to an Earl.

"Did I mentioned that Isabelle, is to visit soon, Darcy?" said Wilkins.

Wickham nudged the young Darcy and winked, and my younger self flushed. This gave rise to a roar of amusement from the others of the group.

"Isabelle was his younger sister," I said to the Spirit. "A pretty girl indeed."

"She arrives tomorrow. I plan on a dinner, and you are all hereby invited to dine with me tomorrow night." Wilkins raised his tankard in a toast, and the others joined in.

The young Darcy joined in the toast but said nothing.

The scene faded and when the light reappeared, I found myself in a dining room containing the same group of young men, but this time a beautiful young woman was a member of the party. She was seated between her brother and the young Darcy, and opposite Wickham. Talk was lively, and wine was plentiful.

"I remember this evening," I said, a smile on my lips. "Miss Wilkins was charming and popular with everyone here."

"You especially, I believe," said the Spirit.

"I was young and believed myself in love after so short a time," I said, with a sigh.

"Why the sigh? A marriage would have been welcomed by her family and yours."

"It would, had it come to that, I have no doubt. I believed her to feel towards me as I did towards her. But she did not as it turned out."

"No."

The scene changed and we stood in a hallway.

I looked about, with dawning recognition. "This was the way to my rooms." I indicated a few doors down. "That was my room and across the hall was Wickham's."

We walked slowly down the hall, following the young Darcy, who passed us on the way to his rooms.

"Do you remember this day?" asked the Ghost.

I trembled. "I believe so. This was a day of realisation—about many things. I finally left my innocence behind this day."

We reached the doorways. The young Darcy had entered his room and was groping in a drawer. He pulled out a small box, tossed it in the air and caught it, grinning, and then tucked it in his pocket. He left his room and strode across the hall to his friend's door, knocked but did not wait and opened It immediately.

"This was the day I found out his true nature," I said, hanging back, "and hers."

"I know," said the Spirit, "but you must look, nonetheless."

I moved forward and watched the scene, with reluctance.

Within was Wickham, but he was not alone. The bed was rumpled and sat within the rumpled bedclothes, a sheet held up to her neck, was Isabelle. She turned her face away with a cry, but it was too late, as the young Darcy had recognised her, and stood frozen in the doorway.

"Darcy! I was not expecting you," said Wickham, his face wary yet expectant.

"So, it seems," young Darcy replied, tearing his eyes away from the tousled young woman. "Forgive the interruption. I was about to inform you of some news, but it matters not now. I will leave you to your… business."

He withdrew, returning to his room, placing the box back in the drawer and closing his door on the world. The lock turned, leaving us out in the corridor.

"We must wait a little longer. You must see this."

"What else can you do to me? Is this not enough?"

Wickham's door opened. After peering out into the corridor, he said, "He has gone. You should go before your brother finds you here."

"But Wickham?" Isabelle had hastily pulled on her clothes, her hair bundled up into an untidy knot.

"What?"

She sidled up to him and ran her hand over his chest. "When shall we announce our news?"

"What news?"

"Our engagement of course, silly. "

Wickham turned on her, roughly removing her hand from his body. "There is no engagement. You were meant to become engaged to Fitzwilliam, while we continued our affair, then you could pass of any brats as his, but I can't see him asking you now. You were careless getting caught here with me."

"Careless! You were the one who never locked your door." She pushed past him and went out into the corridor, then her expression changed, and she whirled back to face him. "Was this all a ploy? Do you hate him so much?"

"He has what I want, so I take from him what I can." Wickham smirked. "Including you and soon his father's good opinion. Better yet, there's nothing he can do to stop me." He rudely saluted my younger self's door. "I will have it all yet and he will be left with nothing."

Isabelle gasped, then turned on her heel and hurried away, watched by a grinning Wickham.

I turned on the spirit. "No more!" I cried. "No more. I don't wish to see it. Show me no more!"

But the relentless ghost pinioned me in both its arms and forced me to observe what happened next.

We were back in Pemberley, this time in George Darcy's study.

The young Darcy was sitting in front of Father's desk. "But father, he has ruined a young lady. Her brother is furious!"

George Darcy slammed his fists down on the desk and stood, looming over his son. "Enough now! How many times have you come running to me with tales of George's wrongdoing? Each time I have asked him, and he assures me it is all a misunderstanding. Indeed, he was always loath to tell me the truth but, in the end, it always came out. I am ashamed of you Fitzwilliam, always trying to blame your own behaviour on George, who cannot defend himself against your unjust accusations."

"Ashamed of me, father?"

"He told me all about your dealings with Miss Wilkins. How you seduced her with promises of marriage, and then reneged. How could you?"

The young Darcy sat there, jaw agape at his father's words.

"I am almost tempted to force you into this marriage. Maybe it would settle you down, but her family have sent her away to have her child. I will have to provide for her and the child of course. I will take it out of your allowance."

"Ha!" Young Darcy stood and reached into his pocket. Drawing out a small box, he tossed it onto the desk, followed by a bundle of paper which he extracted from another pocket. "Where do you think most of my allowance already goes? I have already resettled two of Wickham's 'misunderstandings' and the babes resulting. By the by, I was all ready to propose to Miss Wilkins until I found her in Wickham's bed. If you cannot see that he is a consummate liar, then I am obviously wasting my breath. One day, soon I hope, you will realise that everything I have told you is the truth. I pray it is not too late. I will leave now, and will not return until you realise the truth, even if I have to work for my living." He turned and left the study.

George Darcy picked up the box, opened it and then slumped back in his chair. Inside was his wife's engagement ring, cleaned and ready for a new owner. He reached for the bundle of papers and flicked through them, his face paling as he did so.

"The papers detailed all of the debts Wickham had racked up and that I paid. My father died soon after this day," I commented. "I do not know if he died still believing in Wickham. I left for London that same day and we never spoke again."

"He did not. He paid for an investigation into the situation and found out the truth not long before his time on earth ran out, but it was too late for him to repair the breech as he did not know where you had gone."

"I have sometimes wondered what happened to Isabelle. She fell for a silver-tongue and did not deserve her fate."

"She was sent to the Americas to have her baby. The child was still born. She stayed there after, as her family did not ask for her return, and eventually married."

I nodded but said nothing as the scene faded.


	8. Chapter 8

When the light returned, we were still in the study, but now seated at the desk was the younger Darcy.

A knock at the door drew his attention from the ledger he was examining. "Come."

The door opened and Wickham was shown in. "Ah, Fitz. Thank you for seeing me."

"It is a shame you did not arrive last week. You would then have been able to bid your father a farewell. I did write to inform you that his time was near," said young Darcy.

"This was after my own father had passed on. They died within a week of each other," I said to the ghost, who simply nodded.

"I was otherwise detained. I have come for my inheritance. Your father did mention that he was providing for me in his will."

"Detained at the gaming tables, I expect." I said.

My younger self said nothing. He rang a bell and asked the footman that responded to send in his man of law. "I will have my lawyer explain the situation to you, if that is acceptable."

Wickham nodded and walked over to the fireplace to wait.

The lawyer was shown into the room, carrying a bundle of papers. "Mr Wickham has arrived?" he asked the young Darcy.

Young Darcy nodded. "Pray read the sections of the will pertaining to Mr Wickham. I would prefer he have it from a third party's mouth."

The lawyer searched through his papers for the appropriate legal document and opened it.

Wickham was smiling when the lawyer began to read, but during the reading his smile fell away. When the lawyer had finished, and was preparing to refold the document, he said "Let me see that! I do not trust your reading. I am sure Mr Darcy meant to leave me more than a small living. This is not even the best living in his gift!"

The lawyer placed the will on Darcy's desk and invited Wickham over to view it. "As you can see, you have a legacy of one thousand pounds, and a living, worth £300 pounds a year, that will be set aside for you when the current incumbent is no more. The living, as you can see, is dependent on you taking orders and being ordained at the time it falls vacant."

"And that is all?"

"As you see."

Wickham strode about the room, muttering to himself, then turned to face them. "And if I choose not to take orders?"

"Then the living will be given elsewhere."

"I have no desire to take orders, but I feel that I should receive some compensation for the loss of the living. It is not an unreasonable request," said Wickham.

"There is no way I could, in conscious, inflict Wickham on the parishioners of Kympton," I said to the Ghost. "His habits are too debauched to be a mad of God.".

"I suspected that would be the case," said young Darcy, "so I had a document drawn up. I will offer you two thousand pounds in lieu of the living."

"Six thousand." Wickham countered.

"We haggled but I was never going above three thousand pounds mark. It was worth much less than that but that amount, plus the other thousand, invested would have set him up for life had he invested it properly," I said in an aside to the Spirit.

"He was never going to be wise," the spirit returned.

"No, he was not wise. He always wanted more, no matter what he was given."

"Five thousand!" Wickham said.

"Three thousand and not a shilling more."

Wickham hesitated, as if wondering if it were worth trying for more. Then he sighed. "I accept. I suppose I have no choice."

The lawyer produced the contract, filled in the agreed amount and Wickham signed it.

"He spent it all within the year," I said, "and then, when he heard of the incumbent's death, came back to ask for the living he had just signed away. Of course, I declined, and he was violent in his abuse of me. I could not have given it to him had I wanted, he was not ordained and had no plans to be."

"But that was not the last you heard of him, was it?" asked the Spirit.

As the scene faded, I said, "No. He proved himself more of a villain than I could ever imagine."

When all about me became clear again, I found myself in the street outside a moderately sized house and the tang of salt was in on the breeze.

"By gad, this is Ramsgate," I exclaimed.

A carriage pulled up outside the house and my other self alighted, looked about and then climbed the steps to bang on the door. It was opened and the Spirit and I followed him inside and into the front parlour, where my young sister, Georgiana was waiting.

"I'm not sure I can go through this again," I muttered, watching as my sister threw herself into her brother's arms.

I looked around. Spying my sister's companion, Mrs Younge, abruptly leaving the room instead of watching the sibling reunion, I, with the Ghost closely behind me, chose to follow her to another room where she sat at the writing desk, pulled out some paper, and scribbled a quick note. I leaned in to read it over her shoulder, noting the affectionate greeting, the warning that 'my dearest George' make himself scarce, and that their 'plans were for naught'. She signed off with her love and the expectation of meeting again at her boarding house in London, then addressed the note to Mr Wickham, and summoned a maid to deliver it immediately. She returned to the parlour, and I now knew the final part of the puzzle.

"I always wondered when she had time to send him that warning," I muttered.

When we returned, Georgiana had already confessed to her engagement to Mr Wickham.

"He assured me that once we were married, you would make up your silly quarrel and we would all be as happy as we were before Father died," she said, smiling up at her brother.

"Mr Wickham was lying. His past actions have made any reconciliation with me impossible."

"I'm sure it was all just a misunderstanding, as he told me. I will write and ask him to come and explain. You will see."

"I will write, if you will provide me with his direction. Let him come and explain the situation himself."

The note was sent and the two settled down for afternoon tea, Mrs Younge sitting uneasily with the pair as they chatted.

Soon after the tea tray was removed, the footman returned.

"I was unable to deliver your message, sir," the footman said. "I asked the landlady for his whereabouts and she went to went to his room. When she returned, she said that the gentleman in question had apparently left in rather a hurry. He'd taken most of his belongings, but not everything. She took me up to his room and it was a mess, sir. I found this on screwed up on his bed, sir." He handed over a crumpled sheet of paper. "He owes the landlady for several days board and lodgings. I waited while she checked, and apparently, her silver candlestick is missing."

"I see. Thank you, Hawkins." The footman handed over the crumpled paper, bowed and left. My younger self glanced at the note and then turned to his sister. "You see, Georgiana. He is not a man to be trusted.

Tears welled up in her eyes, as he folded her into his embrace, while glaring over her shoulder at the companion sat quaking in her chair.

"Mrs Younge, I will speak with you in a moment. Do not leave this room. Come Georgie, let me take you to your room. We can pack and leave for London." The siblings left the room, and Mrs Younge remained in her chair, pale faced.

"My sister is barely recovered from his, and Mrs Younge's, betrayal, even now," I said.

"Yet you left him free to peddle his lies elsewhere, did you not?"

I felt the shame of my inaction. "I could not expose him for fear of exposing my sister. She is my first priority."


	9. Chapter 9

The scene changed and we were at a dance. Not just any dance, but the Assembly in Meryton, the small town closest to where my friend had rented his manor. This Assembly had taken place a few days after our arrival in the country. Charles Bingley, had been mightily looking forward to the event, unlike the rest of his household—myself included.

This was only a few months past, and I watched my other self stalking around the room, avoiding all conversation, even when directly introduced to others in the place.

The Spirit and I were standing beside the pillar against which my other self was standing. Charles Bingley came over to berate his lack of dancing.

"Come, Darcy," said Bingley, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."

"I certainly shall not," replied my other self and I cringed at his haughtiness. "You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with."

"I would not be so fastidious as you are," cried Mr. Bingley, "for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty."

"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said my other self, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."

"Which do you mean?" My other self looked around for a moment and noticed a young woman seated close by. On catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."

Bingley took his advice and left his friend, and the young woman who had been the subject of such comments, who I knew was called Elizabeth Bennet, stood and moved away to join another young lady close by.

The Spirit urged its charge towards the pair, close enough to hear what was said.

"His pride," said the older of the two ladies, "does not offend me so much as pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud."

"That is very true," replied the other young lady, "and I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not just mortified mine."

"Poor Eliza! To be only just tolerable!"

I was horrified. "She heard me."

"She did and it coloured every interaction with you hereafter. She has no gentle thoughts toward you, Fitzwilliam. It was badly done, to insult a young woman so publicly."

The scene faded, much to my mortified relief. I had not thought she had heard my comments at the time. When the light grew again, I found we were at another gathering, some weeks later, and close by was my old nemesis Wickham, currently deep in conversation with the young lady from the Assembly.

"Yes," Wickham was saying, "the late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living in his gift. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. He meant to provide for me and thought he had done it; but when the living fell vacant, it was given elsewhere."

"Good heavens!" cried Elizabeth Bennet; "but how could that be? How could his will be disregarded? Why did you not seek legal redress?"

"There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest as to give me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it. Certain it is, that the living became vacant two years ago, exactly as I was of an age to hold it, and that it was given to another man. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me."

"This is quite shocking! He deserves to be publicly disgraced."

"Some time or other he will be—but it shall not be by me. Till I can forget his father, I can never expose him."

"But what," said she, after a pause, "can have been his motive? What can have induced him to behave so cruelly?"

"A thorough, determined dislike of me—a dislike which I cannot but attribute in some measure to jealousy. Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father's uncommon attachment to me irritated him, I believe, very early in life."

"I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this—though I have never liked him. I had not thought so very ill of him. I had supposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures in general but did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this."

"So, he spread his lies as far as her ears," I muttered, "and now I see her behaviour towards me in a clearer light."

"What is the matter?" asked the Ghost.

"Nothing particular," I said.

"Something, I think?" the Ghost insisted.

"No," I said, "No, I should like to be able to speak the truth to this lady just now. That's all."

"Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?" asked Elizabeth Bennet.

"Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor. Family pride, and filial pride—for he is very proud of what his father was—have done this. Not to appear to disgrace his family is a powerful motive. He has also brotherly pride, which, with some brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister, and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers."

"What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?"

He shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her brother—very, very proud."

"He dares speak of my sister in such terms, after what he tried to do to her this past summer," I cried, incensed.

"One shadow more, my time grows short. Quick!"


	10. Chapter 10

Once more the scene faded and we found ourselves in a room with Elizabeth Bennet and her cousin, who had recently been given a living by one of Darcy's aunts.

The lady looked embarrassed and annoyed and the gentleman an odd mix of solemnness, complacency and sweaty nerves.

Mr Collins was mid-speech. "Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying—and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did."

The lady seemed only just able to control her reaction and was unable to speak. Seeing her silence, the gentleman continued.

"My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced that it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly—which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked too!) on this subject…"

"How this tiresome man does go on," I said. "Is this really his idea of a marriage proposal?"

"…after the death of your honoured father (who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy myself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, that the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy event takes place…"

"Recommending himself by commenting on the death of a much loved parent? The man is an idiot," I muttered.

"…and that one thousand pounds in the four per cents, which will not be yours till after your mother's decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married."

"He did not even ask for her hand, rather he assumes she will accept. She cannot be thinking of marrying this long-winded fool." I said to the Spirit.

"Maybe, maybe not. It would be in her interest, and her families, to do so, due to the removal of her sister's hopes. A removal, I understand, that you know all about?"

The scene faded and I stared at the Spirit. "You refer to Charles Bingley, I presume?"

"You know I do."

The light grew again, and we found ourselves back in my bedroom.

"It was for his own good. She did not care for him," I said.

"You are so sure of that?"

I said that I was, absolutely. "I watched them carefully together, it was obvious as to his feelings for her, but her complacency and serene expression pointed to a heart unlikely to be easily touched."

"Given all we have seen and the time we have spent together," said the Spirit, "you are so sure you can recognise another person's feelings; the feelings of a person who behaves much as you do when it comes to keeping your emotions hidden from others?"

I was struck dumb. The Ghost was right. I hid my feelings and emotions from others. Miss Bennet was likewise guarded.

"Fitzwilliam, do you not recognise me?" The Ghost threw back its hood, and its features at last grew clear.

Recognition dawned and I fell to my knees. "Mama!"

"I have shown you these things this night to remind you of what you have, for one reason or another, forgotten, or tried to forget. That they are what they are, do not blame me, though I would hope you learn from them."

It raised the extinguisher-cap and placed it on its head. "My time is over. I must depart."

"No! Come back!" I cried. "Please, do not leave me again!"

"I cannot stay." The extinguisher-cap slipped down over its head and, with no visible resistance, started to cover the rest of the Spirits form.

In the struggle, if it can be called a struggle when the Ghost with no visible resistance on its own part was undisturbed by any effort of its adversary, I seized the extinguisher-cap, and tried to prevent it slipping further down, indeed I attempted to raise it all the way back up. Then, the Spirit dropped beneath it, so that the extinguisher covered its whole form, and though I pulled on the cap with all my force, I could not lift it back up. Yet still the light streamed from under it, in an unbroken flood upon the ground.

"Mama…!" I cried. "Do not leave me!"

As a whisper, I heard, "Remember your promises to me, my son." and the light vanished.

I was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible drowsiness; and, further, of being in my own bedroom. I released my grip on the cap and had barely time to reel to bed, before I sank into a heavy sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

I awakened for no obvious reason and sat up in bed to get my thoughts together. I felt restored to consciousness in the right nick of time, knowing that the bell was again upon the stroke of one, and I was ready to meet with the second Spirit, as foretold by my father. Wondering which of my curtains this new spectre would draw back, I put each aside with my own hands then lay down again, carefully watching all around the bed wanting to challenge the Spirit on the moment of its appearance, so as not be taken by surprise again.

Being prepared for almost anything, I was unprepared for nothing to happen and so, when the church bell struck one, and no spirit appeared, I was taken with a violent fit of trembling. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour went by, and yet nothing. All this time, I lay upon my bed, at the centre of a blaze of ruddy light, which had filled my chamber when the clock proclaimed the hour. This was more alarming than a dozen ghosts, as I had no understanding of the meaning. Finally, I wondered if the source and secret of this ghostly light might be in the adjoining room, from where it seemed to originate, and so thinking, I got up softly and crept to the door.

The moment I lay my hand on the lock, a strange voice called out.

"Fitzwilliam Darcy! Come in! Come in! Do not linger out there in the dark!"

I obeyed, if reluctantly.

It was my room, of that there was no doubt. but it had undergone a surprising transformation. From the walls and ceiling, living green descended so that the room resembled a grove, and on every branch glistened bright gleaming berries. The leaves of holly, mistletoe, and ivy reflected the light, like hundreds of minuscule mirrors, and roaring flames leapt up the chimney releasing an unseasonable heat.

Piled on the floor, and forming a throne of sorts, were geese, game, poultry, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, red-hot chestnuts, rosy apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, giant twelfth-cakes, and piping hot bowls of punch, the delicious steam of which threw a mist over all.

Enthroned on this massive seat, was a laughing giant holding a glowing torch, similar in shape to Plenty's horn. The giant held it up high so that its light fell on me, as I peeped around the door.

"Come in!" exclaimed the Ghost. "Come in and know me better, man!"

I entered carefully and stood before this Spirit. I was not the proud, dogged man I had been, and my eyes looked to the ground. Though the Spirit's eyes were clear and kind, I did not like to meet them.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," said the Spirit. "Look upon me!"

I raised my eyes and gazed on the spirit, realising at once that it seemed familiar, but unable to explain why. It was clothed unlike anyone I had ever me, in one simple green robe bordered with white fur. This garment hung so loosely on the figure, that its capacious chest was bare, as were its feet, which peeped out from beneath the ample folds of the garment. On its head it wore a simple holly wreath, set here and there with shining icicles. Its dark brown curls hung long and free and its face was genial, with sparkling eyes. With a cherry voice, and an unconstrained demeanour, it was joy personified.

"You have never seen the like of me before!" exclaimed the Spirit.

I looked about, and agreed, "No, never."

"Have you never walked forth with the younger members of my family?" it pursued. "I have many older brothers born in these later years."

"I don't think I have," I said. "I'm afraid I have not. Have you many brothers, Spirit?"

"More than eighteen hundred," said the Ghost.

"A tremendous family to provide for!" I muttered. "Spirit, I went forth last night unwillingly, and nevertheless was taught much. Tonight, conduct me where you will. I will come willingly with all hope of great benefit from what I see."

The Ghost of Christmas Present rose. "Touch my robe!"

I grasped its robe and held fast.

Holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkeys, geese, game, poultry, meat, pigs, sausages, pies, puddings, fruit, and punch, all vanished instantly. So did the room, the fire, the ruddy glow, and I realised we were back in Hertfordshire, standing on the drive, in front of Longbourn, watching a carriage arrive.

As the carriage door was opened, children tumbled out and into the arms of the daughters of the home. The eldest, Jane, caught one, and Elizabeth, next in age, caught another and they all chattered away, ten to a dozen, while the parents of the young ones made a more cautious descent from the carriage to greet the elders of the house.

"Welcome, welcome!" was the greeting called. Then "Come into the house, out of the cold."

The lady from the carriage gave directions to the stable hands busy unloading the carriage, pointed to one of the trunks and asked that it be brought into a room down stairs, then they all went inside.

"Come. Let us follow them," said the Spirit.

Inside, was a lively scene. The trunk was opened, and presents were distributed, then drinks and news were passed around. In one corner the small children played with the youngest daughters of the house.

The Spirit and I drew near the lady of the house, who was talking to the mother of the children.

"Oh, sister! It is very hard to think that she might have been Mr Collin's wife by now. That girl is too selfish to help her family out, and we will all be tossed out into the hedgerows when Mr Bennet dies!"

I heaved a great sigh. "So, she did not accept him, after all. I have to admit to some relief, for her sake."

"Why are you relieved? It affects you not, but it would have provided security for her and her family. Now, they are likely to face destitution, dire need, and a life of poverty. You would wish that on them instead?"

I hesitated and argued with my conscience. I did not like to think of her married to Collins, but the idea of her being married to anyone else had me feeling the exact same way. Then again, the thought of her having to work for a living also left me feeling nervous and agitated. I did not know what to think, and still refused to admit the truth of the matter to myself, so impatiently pushed it aside in my mind for the moment.


	12. Chapter 12

By the time my attention had returned to the scene in front of me, the groupings had changed, and Elizabeth was now talking with her aunt.

"It does not often happen that the interference of the friend will persuade a young man of independent fortune to think no more of a girl with whom he was violently in love with only a few days before," said Elizabeth.

"Pray, how violent was Mr. Bingley's love?" her Aunt inquired.

"I never saw a more promising inclination. Every time they met it was more decided and remarkable."

"Poor Jane. I am sorry for her, because with her disposition, she may not get over it immediately. It had better have happened to you, Lizzy. You would have laughed yourself out of it sooner."

I looked over at the eldest sister, Jane, who was the subject of the discussion. She was sitting quietly by herself, while all about her chattered and exclaimed over the contents if the trunk. She was still beautiful, but a light seemed to have gone out in her. From smiling too much, now she smiled not at all.

"I hope she will be prevailed on to come back with us to London after Christmas," the aunt was saying.

"Oh, I do hope so. I think it will do her some good to get away from my mother's constant mention of him."

"I do hope that no consideration with regard to this young man will influence her. It is unlikely they should meet at all; our connections are so different."

"That would be quite impossible," Elizabeth assured her. "He is now in the custody of his friend and Mr Darcy would never dare visit such a location. He would consider a month's ablution insufficient to clean the taint from his person, and Mr Bingley never stirs without him."

"Will Jane want to call on his sisters, do you think?"

"Given the nature of their letters to her, I expect they will drop the acquaintance entirely."

"Really? What did Miss Bingley say?"

"Miss Bingley wrote that Mr Bingley was staying at Darcy House and she implied he was on the verge of an engagement with Miss Darcy. She said it was a desired and anticipated event on the part of both families."

"I find it hard to believe that Miss Bingley would write such falsehoods about my sister," I sputtered to the Spirit. "Georgiana is barely one and six and far too young to be engaged."

The Spirit laughed. "Do you then accuse this lady of lying? Tell me, from what you know of Miss Bingley and Miss Elizabeth, which one is the most truthful, and which one is willing to spin the truth to fit the way she wishes things to be?"

The answer was obvious, but one I was not yet keen to admit aloud, and so I remained silent, deep in thought, as the scene changed.

I looked about. From the large bed dominating the room it was obviously a bedchamber, and in it were the two eldest Bennet sisters. Sitting on the bed, a letter in hand, was Elizabeth Bennet. Her elder sister was rummaging in a wardrobe and pulling out dresses.

"We can't be in here. It is improper," I protested, turning my eyes away from the ladies.

"We are just shadows, they cannot see us."

"Still, it is their bed chamber…"

"Hush. You are here to learn. Now watch!" the Spirit ordered.

Elizabeth looked up from the letter, waved it at her sister and said, "Do not be misled by what Miss Bingley says, my dear Jane. She writes what she wishes for and not what her brother thinks."

"Why would she try to mislead me? She has no reason. Dear Lizzy, do you not see. She is merely warning me that her brother's affections lie elsewhere."

"She has every reason. He loves you, Jane. It was obvious to everyone. Miss Bingley aims to become Mrs Darcy, that much is certain. She thinks that by persuading her brother away from you will cause him to transfer his affections onto Miss Darcy and we know that one intermarriage often leads to another. She deems you an unsuitable distraction to her plan and is now trying to remove you from his life."

"I cannot believe her to be so calculating. No. I must take her at her words and, much as it pains me, believe he is lost to me." A single tear tumbled down her pale cheek. She wiped it away impatiently. "He will be forgot, and all will soon be as it was." She gave her sister a wan smile. "Some time away from home will help, it was good of you to ask my aunt if I might visit with them. Mamma thinks I go there to pursue Mr Bingley, but I go to escape her constant reminders of him. She does not know how much it pains me."

Elizabeth sprang up from the bed, crossed the room and folded her sister in her arms. "Oh, Jane. It is my fault she is so. Had I not refused Mr Collins, she would be talking of my upcoming wedding instead of bemoaning the loss of both her future son-in laws. I am sorry."

"Do not be. You could not marry him. You would have been miserable for the rest of your life had you accepted. My sorrow, at least, will pass in time." Her face, however, belied her words.

The Ghost waved a hand but said nothing. There was no need. I was already feeling ashamed.

Before the Ghost had completed the gesture, the scene showed a quite different room. I recognised it as the drawing room in the Hurst's townhouse. The ladies were seated on one sofa chatting quietly together, Mr Hurst was, as usual, sleeping on a chaise, a decanter and an empty glass beside him on a side table, and Mr Bingley was standing silently by the fireplace, gazing intently into the flames.

"Charles seems unusually quiet," I commented, glancing at the ghost.

"Can you not guess why?" said the Spirit.

I frowned and looked away from the Spirit's piercing gaze but said nothing.

"Charles? Charles!" called Miss Bingley, trying to attract his attention. "Have you spent much time with Miss Darcy during your stay at Darcy House?" She gave her sister a sideways glance, a satisfied smile fixed on her face.

Mr Bingley tore his eyes away from the fire and looked over at his sister. "I saw her on occasion, but she was usually busy with her studies. I was more often with Darcy."

"Oh! Well, once you return, you should try and spend more time with her. Such a delightful girl," said Mrs Hurst. "I would very much like to be on a more intimate footing with her."

"Well you should call on her, then. My getting to know her better will not increase your intimacy with her," Mr Bingley stated, standing to poke the fire. "She's a nice girl, yes, but far too quiet and shy for me."

Miss Bingley's smile dropped away. "If you spent more time with her, she would become less shy." Her voice was clipped and cold.

Mr Bingley gave a deep sigh, straightened and turned to face his sisters. "I know what you're suggesting, Caroline. Let me tell you right now, it won't fly."

Miss Bingley glanced at her sister, then said, "Whatever do you mean, Charles?"

"You think to push me toward Miss Darcy. I tell you now, it will never happen. Besides, she's far too young." Mr Bingley strode across the room toward the door. "Just cease with your machinations, Caroline, Louisa. I've had enough of it."

Once he'd gone Miss Bingley looked over at Mr Hurst and, seeing he was still soundly sleeping, said, "I do wish Charles would stop moping about over Jane Bennet. He's much better away from that woman. The cheek of her in keeping up correspondence with me! She seems unable to take a hint. His marrying her would plunge our family back into obscurity. If he won't consider Miss Darcy—and what better match could there be for both our families—then we need to find him someone else."

"You've introduced him to several young ladies of fortune and position in the last few weeks and he showed them no interest whatsoever. You cannot force his marriage to one of them," sighed Mrs Hurst.

"Force a marriage… but of course! My dear sister, maybe it is not our brother's marriage we need to think about forcing." Caroline stopped to think, a small smile fluttering around her lips.

"If not him, then who?"

Miss Bingley looked at her, a smile growing wide on her face. "Myself, of course. We need to force a proposal for me."

"For you? You mean… Mr Darcy?"

"Of course, Mr Darcy. I've always meant to marry him, and I've been waiting long enough. I'm tired of waiting. If I can just force a compromise, he will have no option but to marry me. We must plan and then invite him for dinner. I was just thinking about what was best to do, here is my plan…"

"I would not marry that woman should she arrange a compromise," I sputtered. "I have avoided those who would try and trap me for many years now. I am not about to fail now."

The Spirit smiled. "Not even if you should lose your friendship with her brother because of it?"

"I will not be trapped!" I repeated. "Bingley knows my views on this matter, and he would never force the issue."

The Spirits smile grew wider. "Time will tell on that, but now we must move on."

"No! Wait! I must hear what she is planning," I protested, but it was too late. The spirit gestured and our surroundings wavered.


	13. Chapter 13

Another wave of the hand and we were elsewhere. Walking through an overly ornate, echoing hallway and into an enormous antechamber, where seating was arranged in a semi-circle around a gilt, throne-like chair.

I recognised it at once. Seated on the throne was my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. My cousin Anne, and her companion, Mrs Jenkinson sat on one of the sofas facing it.

"Why are we here, of all places, Spirit?" I moaned. "'tis a terrible place."

"You are here to learn. Let me ask of you this, how many truly happy people have you seen this day? And of those that were happy, can you tell me why?"

'We will not find any happy people here, if that's what you are searching for," I muttered.

The Ghost raised a hand. "Hush now, let us listen."

"I do wish Mr Collins had arranged his wedding for earlier than January. I would have invited the new Mrs Collins and her husband here for Christmas luncheon. I am excessively attentive to all that is due a new bride. After all, despite the lowness of her rank, she is a gentlewoman."

I shuddered at the thought of supping with that ridiculous man. Adding my aunt into the mix it would be an insupportable penance.

"It should have been your wedding being planned, Anne. I do wish Darcy would do his duty toward you."

Anne opened her mouth, as if to speak, but before a sound left her lips, her mother continued.

"I will work on him when he pays his Easter visit. I will not allow him to leave this time without setting a date. It is time you two were wed and an heir on the way."

Whatever Anne had been about to say was left unsaid, her lips closed, and she grew even paler. A few minutes passed and then she whispered, "Excuse me, I must rest." Mrs Jenkinson helped her to rise and the two left the room.

Lady Catherine was left alone, everything as silent as the mausoleum she lived in.

"She is little changed over the years, I see," said the Ghost.

"You speak as if you knew her personally," I commented.

"I did. It was some years ago when I was yet living, but she is still the same woman she was then, perhaps even more so. Death was a blessed release from her company. Do you not recognise me? You were but a child when I passed, but we were friends, nonetheless."

I stared into the face of the spirit, examining the features to trace a resemblance. There was something there, but the memory eluded me. I shook my head. "I can imagine a familiarity but cannot place it. Maybe it will come to me."

"No matter. Well, it seems you have a choice of wife," said the Ghost. "Either Miss Bingley or your cousin."

"I will not choose either," I stated.

"Why not. You are not a man of sentiment and you do want an heir, and a wife with status and connections, and the wealth that goes with it. Why not marry one or other of these ladies?" demanded the Spirit.

"I—I do not want to marry either of them."

"Do you have another in mind?" pursued the Ghost.

I was at first silent, as an image of dancing eyes passed before my eyes, then hesitant I replied, "I… I do not."

The Ghost laughed. "I do not believe you, but no matter. We must move on."


	14. Chapter 14

The next scene opened in a dining room, where several people, including my sister, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, were gathered for a Christmas feast. From the paucity of food on the table, they had arrived at the end of the meal.

"This is Matlock House," I cried. "I was invited here for this meal. There are my uncle and aunt." I pointed to the head and foot of the table.

The Lady of the house stood, "Shall we, Ladies?"

She left the room, followed by the rest of the ladies at the table, leaving the men to their port and cigars.

Colonel Fitzwilliam moved along the chairs to sit beside a young man with a marked resemblance to himself, bringing the port with him. As he poured port for himself and his neighbour, he said, "So, brother, how is married life treating you?"

The younger man beamed. "Very well, indeed. I am exceedingly happy. Marianne makes a wonderful clergyman's wife."

"I am very pleased to hear it." The Colonel held his glass up for a toast. "Long may it continue."

"I just wish she'd brought more to the marriage," interrupted their father, "But I suppose you do have a settled living and maybe a woman unused to the finer things in life will settle more easily to a smaller income than an heiress."

"I did not marry her for her connections or her money. I married her because I could not do without her. It was the best decision of my life and I can only hope my brothers will be as happily situated."

The Colonel laughed, "It will be a long time coming for me. My life is in no way settled enough for a wife." He looked across the table to the fourth member of their party, his elder brother. "What about you, brother?"

"My choices are non-existent," the eldest said, wrinkling his nose. "You know I am duty bound to the Earl of Salford's eldest."

The colonel shuddered. "And once more I am grateful that I am merely the second born. I wish you well with that cold fish, brother."

"Indeed," he replied, and after a wary glance at his father's purple visage he said no more.

"You should think yourself lucky in your wife-to-be. It is a perfect match. She has beauty, connections and a large dowry. Any man would be lucky to win her," my uncle sputtered.

The eldest brother slumped in his seat, lifted his glass and swallowed the contents in one, then muttered under his breath, "Any man can have her. She's an insipid icicle."

The ghost turned and walked away a little, beckoning me to follow. "Tell me, which of these men is truly happy?" said the Spirit.

"I had no idea he was so unhappy about the match." I said shaking my head.

"Oh you knew, but I suspect you were not really listening before now. Tell me, do you know me yet?" asked the ghost.

"I do not."

"Heed my warning. I married for duty and died a broken man. You were at my funeral, as was your father. My wife did not mourn my passing, she cared not for me. The only one who did is that shadow of a creature living under the tyranny of her mother."

I twitched, as a memory awoke. "Uncle Lewis… Is that you?"

"Yes. I once was Lewis de Bourgh. Do not follow in my footsteps. Let my life, and death, be a warning to you. Find a woman who cares for you as a man and not just for everything you can give her. Come, we have much still to see."

The scene changed and we stood in the city streets on Christmas afternoon.

Far we travelled, walking the streets and poking our heads into many homes, always finding those homes that contained love to be the happiest.

It was a long night, if it were only one night; but I had my doubts of this, because the entirety of the Christmas period seemed to be compressed into the space of time as we passed together. It was strange too, that while I remained unaltered in my outward form, the Ghost grew older, clearly older. I observed this change, but never spoke of it, until we left a children's Twelfth Night party. Looking at the Spirit as we stood together in an open place, I noticed that its hair had changed from the glossy brown it had been to a dull grey.

"Are spirit's lives so short?" I asked.

"My life upon this globe, is very brief," replied the Ghost. "It ends tonight."

"Tonight!" I cried.

"Tonight, at midnight. Hark! The time is drawing near."

The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that moment.

"Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask," I said, looking intently at the Spirit's robe, "but I see something strange, and not belonging to you, protruding from beneath your cloak. Is it a foot or a claw?"

"It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it," was the Spirits sorrowful reply. "Look here."

It threw back the skirts of the robe and brought forth two children; wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt at its feet and clung upon the outside of its garment.

"Oh, Man! look here. Look, look, down here!" exclaimed the Ghost.

They were a boy and girl. Yellow, ragged, and wolfish, yet dressed in finery the like of which he rarely saw outside the Royal Courts. The boy knelt with shoulders thrown back and a lifted chin and the girl wore a superior smile on her face, reminding me of Bingley's youngest sister. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out, and given them a fresh and youthful appearance, age seemed upon them early, and they were pinched and twisted. They were dreadful to behold. Moreso, as I recognised myself in the boy.

I started back, appalled. Having them shown to me in this way, I tried to say they were fine children, but my throat closed on the words, rather than be party to a lie of such enormous magnitude.

"Spirit! Are they yours?" I finally choked out.

"They are Man's," said the Spirit, looking down upon them. "And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This girl is Prejudice. This boy is Pride. Beware them both, and all of their kind, but most of all beware this girl, for on her brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!" cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city. "Slander those who tell it! Admit it for your factious purposes and make it worse. And bide the end!"

As I watched the boy stood, still erect and gazed at me, before giving me the cut direct. The girl watched and then smirked at me. At the spirit dropped his cloak back over the pair, there was a noise behind me and I turned to look.

The bell struck twelve.

I looked back but the Ghost had gone. I looked about frantically, as the last stroke ceased to vibrate, and I then remembered the prediction of George Darcy. Lifting up my eyes, I beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards me.


	15. Chapter 15

The Phantom slowly and silently approached, and as it drew nearer the very air around me seemed to thicken, such was the weight of the gloom it bore. As it grew close, I was forced onto my knees under this cloak of weighty mystery.

It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed all; its head, its face, its shape, leaving nothing visible save one outstretched hand. But for this it would have been difficult to detach its figure from the night and separate it from the darkness by which it was surrounded.

I felt that it was tall and stately when it came beside me, and that its mysterious presence filled me with a solemn dread. I knew no more, for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved.

"Am I in the presence of the Ghost of Things Yet To Come?" I quavered.

The Spirit answered not but pointed onward with its hand.

"You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in the time ahead of us," I pursued. "Is that so, Spirit?"

The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant in its folds, as if the Spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer I received.

Although well used to ghostly company by this time, I feared the silent shape so much that my legs trembled beneath me, and I found that I could hardly stand when I prepared to follow it. The Spirit paused a moment, as if observing my condition, and giving me time to recover.

But I was all the worse for this. It thrilled me with a vague uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud, there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon me, while I, though I stretched my own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great heap of black.

"Ghost of the Future!" I exclaimed, "I fear you more than any spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?"

It gave me no reply. The hand was pointed straight before us.

"Lead on!" I said. "Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit!"

The Phantom moved away as it had come towards me. I followed in the shadow of its cloak, which bore me up, I thought, and carried me along.

I found myself back outside Longbourn. It was night and the house dark and silent, until the quiet was broken by the sound of the rapid arrival of a horse, scattering the gravel of the drive. The rider, clad in a scarlet coat, pulled up outside the front door, flung himself from his horse and ran up to pound at the door.

It was soon opened by the housekeeper in nightwear, and a message handed over. The woman gestured to the stables, and the soldier, for so he was, took his horse to the stables, and disappeared around the back of the house. The Spirit gestured at the door and I entered the house.

All was in uproar. The master of the house, clad in dressing gown and nightcap, was stood reading the express message, surrounded by his wife and three of his daughters.

Mr Bennet looked up from the message. "Lydia has eloped," he said, scanning the surrounding faces and frowning at Kitty.

His wife collapsed into a chair, screeching and wailing, attended by the woman who had answered the door.

"Who has she eloped with, Papa?" asked the eldest daughter.

"Wickham," he answered, shortly. "She was discovered missing this morning, but Colonel Forster suspects they left Saturday night, around midnight. He wrote he was to leave for here soon after this message and would inquire along the way to see if their path can be traced."

"They must have passed within ten miles of here on their way to Scotland," said Jane.

Mr Bennet was still glancing and frowning at Kitty. "You think that, Jane, if it gives you comfort but I must own to some doubt as to their destination."

I followed his gaze and looked at Kitty, who was trying to slip away unseen.

Mr Bennet spoke again. "Stay Kitty and explain to me why there was no surprise from you as to this event."

Jane looked surprised and turned to her sister. "Kitty, do you know something of this?"

Kitty tried to look defiant but quailed under the several pairs of eyes fixed angrily on her. "I—Lydia wrote to me that she—she was in love and that they might run away together."

There was a long pause while Mr Bennet stared at her, his brow creased. "And you did not think that was worth sharing with me?"

"But—but she said it was a big secret and not to say." Kitty began to cry.

"Well done, the pair of you. You have successfully brought ruin and shame on all of us. Now I must try and fix the damage. Kitty, you are not to leave the house and you should remain in your bedroom, meals excepted. I will send some improving books up to you and I expect you to read them while I am away. Now go!"

Kitty fled, sobbing, up the stairs. A slammed door followed, then silence, aside from the continued bewailing of Mrs Bennet.

"Mary, Mrs Hill, help Mrs Bennet back to her room," Mr Bennet said, then turned to Jane. "My dear, will you write to Lizzy and inform her of Lydia's actions?"

"Yes, Papa. I left the latest letter to her open, I can add to it and then send it in the morning."

He pressed her hand and, sighing, entered his study.

The scene flickered and night turned to day.

There was a loud knock at the door signalling the arrival of an exhausted Colonel Forster. He was shown into the study, where Mr Bennet waited. The men shook hands.

Mr Bennet gestured to a chair, "Please take a seat, Colonel."

"Mr Bennet, I cannot tell you how grieved I am that one of my men should be so depraved as to elope with your daughter. Especially as she was under my care. I feel deeply ashamed, sir."

"I do not doubt my youngest gave him encouragement. She is silly enough for that," said Mr Bennet with a deep sigh. "I was warned she would bring ruin on us all and chose not to listen."

"You were warned?"

"My second eldest begged me not to let Lydia go with you to Brighton. She was sure Lydia would behave in a deplorable manner. I wish now that I had listened, as it seems she was right. However, I wanted to avoid the disturbance a disappointed Lydia would have caused in this house, and so let her go."

Colonel Forster nodded. "Miss Elizabeth is a sensible girl. I just wish I had better news for you. I left Brighton soon after sending my express. I managed to trace them to Clapham, but there they dismissed their hired chaise and transferred into a hackney coach, disappearing into the city. I attempted to trace them on the north side of London but there was no sign of them. I greatly fear they are not headed to Scotland."

Despite the newness of the morning, Mr Bennet poured himself a port. "This is no real surprise to me. Mr Wickham is a man of little means, from what I have heard of him. It is likely a journey to Scotland is beyond him. I must go to London and try to find them and recover Lydia." He lifted the decanter to the Colonel, who declined. "Some tea or coffee, then? Have you broken your fast?"

Colonel Forster stayed long enough for breakfast, and for his horse to rest, then he conferred with his now well-rested messenger. Soon after, Mr Bennet's carriage was ready to leave. They were to travel together as far as London, with the Colonel and his man returning to Brighton.

Mr Bennet had some last-minute words for his eldest, as his wife was keeping to her bed. "I will go to Gracechurch Street. Jane, write again to your sister and let her know the situation. I will write when I arrive."

The Spirit and I watched the carriage and horsemen leave.

"That man has been a thorn in my side for longer than I care to remember, and now he was brought ruin on yet another family. I should have warned them about him before I left," I said.


	16. Chapter 16

Things in the future are getting dark.

Content warning - rape, not detailed, second half of chapter.

* * *

Again, the scene flickered, and we were at Longbourn on yet another day.

The house was quiet, apart from some hushed voices coming from the parlour. The spirit pointed to the room and I moved toward it and entered. Inside were the four Bennet daughters. Jane and Elizabeth sat together on a sofa, hands clasped.

"The doctor has no hope?" whispered Jane.

Elizabeth shook her head. "He says Papa's lungs are now affected. He did not want to give us false hope and says that we should prepare ourselves."

"This all comes from Lydia's false step," intoned one of the younger daughters. "Our father would not have contracted this illness had he not spent so long searching for her."

"Thank your Mary," said Elizabeth. "I think we are all aware of that fact."

I heard footsteps on the stairs and looked out to see a solemn-faced man descending. He turned and headed toward the parlour.

"Someone is coming," said Kitty, and the girls stood as the man entered the room.

"Is there news?" asked Elizabeth.

"I am sorry to inform you that your father just breathed his last. My sincere condolences."

There was silence for some time. I could see the effort taken to control their emotions before Elizabeth nodded jerkily, then managed to say, "Thank you for your care."

Jane stood and moved to the door, "I will go up to my mother. She will need informing."

Kitty dissolved into tears and Mary sat, blank faced and still as a stone.

"Mr Collins inherits this house, so what will happen to the Bennets?" I asked of the Spirit.

There was no answer except an outstretched hand, though I fancied from the turn of the hand, and its situation in reference to myself, that the Unseen Eyes were looking at me keenly. It made me shudder and feel very cold.

The scene flickered and we were no longer in Longbourn. Instead we were in a small, poorly decorated sitting room. Mrs Bennet sat in one chair, silent and still, with blankets over her legs and around her shoulders. With her were Mary and Kitty, both sitting on a sofa and huddled together under another blanket. The fire was low, and giving off little heat, and the stack of wood beside it was small. A few sprigs of holly and other greenery were laid on the mantle.

"I had a letter from Lizzy today," said Kitty. "She was asking how Jane was. I don't know what to tell her. If I tell her the truth, she'll want to come, but she has no more days off until the spring."

I looked out of the nearby windows at the leafless trees, the ground covered by a light dusting of snow.

"Just tell her she's no worse…" Mary broke off and stared at the ceiling at the sound of a hacking cough. "Don't tell her the truth. She was lucky to find a position at all, considering... everything. She can't afford to lose the one she has. We need the money she sends us for the apothecary's bills."

"What if…" Kitty lowered her voice to a whisper. "Jane doesn't get well again?"

"If Jane dies, we will tell her then." Mary sighed. "We both know Jane has never been the same since Mr Bingley left. After Lydia ran away and Papa died, she lost all hope of ever seeing him again. I don't think she cares anymore. None of us have much left to look forward to—the family is ruined because of Lydia's shame—wherever she might be." She glanced over at her mother. "Even Mamma has given up."

"Will Jane die?" I asked the Spirit, little expecting an answer, however the scene changed, and we stood in a snowy graveyard. The finger pointed toward an open grave. On one side stood a small cluster of menfolk, and on the other, a coffin.

I moved closer to the coffin. On the metal plate was the inscription,

Jane Rose Bennet

1789-1814

I bowed my head, eyes closed.

The scene had changed when I opened my eyes again. We were now in a city, I assumed London from the view outside the window. Two children sat at small desks, reading, while Elizabeth Bennet sat behind a desk at the front.

A knock at the door brought her to her feet, as a man entered. "Ah, Miss Bennet, I was wondering if I might have a private word with you."

"Certainly, sir. Children, please continue reading this chapter. We will discuss it when I return."

The man held the door open for her to precede him from the room and I could not help myself, following her out, and across the hall to another room before even the man could do so. He closed the door behind us all, then standing with his back to it. Elizabeth stood, facing her employer.

"Yes, sir?"

"A letter has arrived for you, my dear. From Hertfordshire." He held out the missive.

A smile lit her face. "Oh, that is good news. Thank you, but there was no need to bring it up to me yourself."

He took a step forward. "It was no trouble. I like to see you smile."

Her smile faltered and she reached out to take the letter. He did not immediately let it go, instead he took a step closer. Elizabeth's smile disappeared completely.

"You've stopped smiling, my dear," he said, letting the letter go and taking her free hand. "I prefer you smiling."

"Sir, this is inappropriate. I thank you for my letter, but I must ask you to let my hand go."

Instead, he tugged her closer, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her hard up against him.

"And I must insist on a smile." He let her hand go, instead gripping her chin and lifting her face to his. "If not a smile, then maybe…"

He pressed his mouth on hers as she struggled to free herself. I started forward to help, then realised I could not touch or change anything that was happening and stopped with a curse, at the events played out in front of my unwilling eyes.

Moving his face away at last, he continued, "…a kiss would be sufficient." He looked down on her for a long moment, sighed deeply, then continued, "Alas, my dear, it seems a single kiss is not enough for me. Not anymore."

Holding her firmly at the waist, he pushed her back until she was pinned against a wall, then again forced his mouth on hers. She struggled, unable to cry out, but as he was so much bigger, she had no chance of freeing herself. One of his hands gripped her skirts, inching them upwards until he was able to nudge his knees between hers, and force her legs apart. His other hand fumbled with the drop of his breeches.

I watched in horror, as her forced himself on her, muffling her cries with his mouth. When he had taken his pleasure and finally left the room, she collapsed to the floor, sobbing, her letter long forgotten.

"Would that I could lay my hands on that sorry excuse for a man," I spat, as the door closed behind him. Then I turned a sorrowful eye on the unhappy woman, "My poor Elizabeth, how you suffer."

The scene flickered and grew dark. Looking around with what little light was available from the fire, I realised I was in a bedchamber. The breathing of someone deeply asleep could be heard. The door silently opened and the same man, carrying a candle and wearing a nightshirt, entered the room and slipped across to the bed. He gazed down at the figure in the bed. I moved closer. It was Elizabeth.

Her employer put down his candle, stripped off his nightgown and pulled back the bed covers. As Elizabeth woke, he put one hand over her mouth, ripped down the front of her nightgown with the other and grasped one of her breasts in a rough grip.

"My dear, do not pretend you do not enjoy this," he said, his mouth close to her ear, his upper body now pressing her down into the mattress. "I know what you are. I recently met a relation of yours. Your sister, Lydia, or so she claims. We had a very interesting conversation, over a few sessions of pleasure, and she was very forthcoming on her family situation, especially her sisters. I might wish you were the beauty of the family—that honour goes to Jane, I believe—," He licked the side of her face, "—but the way I see it, if I have the sister of a whore in my house, I might as well take advantage of it. It costs less that the whorehouse and my children are taught at the same time. I must admit to some surprise on discovering you were a maid, during our delightful tryst this morning, but at least I now know you're not poxed."

I was so close I could see the fear and anguish in Elizabeth's eyes, and I turned and moved away, thoroughly disgusted, and impotent with my ability not to interfere. But the sounds of the struggle; slaps, punches, and muffled cries, then the eventual pleasure taking of her employer, could not be avoided.

"Why do we again watch this poor woman's humiliation? Was it not enough to see the earlier attack?"

The shrouded head shook, and again the finger pointed. It was now predawn, the light just starting to return after the night's darkness, and Elizabeth was hurriedly packing her few belongings into a small bag. She stood and turned, looking about the room, then gingerly touched her cheek and winced. Examining her face in a mirror, she sucked in a breath then rummaged in her bag for a container, from which she used a cloth to dab powder on the bruises hoping, though unsuccessfully, to hide them. She shook her head, put away the container and fastened her bag. Donning her outerwear, including a concealing bonnet, she took up a note from her writing desk, left it on the mantlepiece and slipped from the room.

I went over to the window and looked out. Soon after, she left the house and went down the street, bag in hand, heading for who knew where.

"Spirit, where is she going? Will she be safe?" The finger wavered, and the room flickered before changing once more.


	17. Chapter 17

I looked about, recognising the ballroom at Pemberley. Unusually for recent years, it was filled with people.

"What is this, Spirit? A party at Pemberley! It has been long since this room last had such company."

I moved amongst the guests, looking for familiar faces. There were the Matlocks—I briefly wondered why my cousin Fitzwilliam was not among them—and over there perched on a large chair was Lady Catherine. I heard her speak my sister's name and moved closer to listen.

"And so, I told them she could not expect a better match. To become a Countess as such a young age! I have no idea why Darcy was not more pleased with my arrangement, but my brother convinced him of the excellence of the match and so, Darcy finally gave his permission. With Fitzwilliam still on the continent, we could not wait for his approval."

Georgiana! Was all this for her? Eagerly I looked about for her face, and when I saw her, I was stunned. She looked so beautiful and so like her mother.

Dressed in wedding gown in the palest of yellows with lace in her hair, with a bouquet of roses and baby's breath in her hand. Beside her was an unknown, tall gentleman, all smiles and ease.

My sister! Married and a Countess!

Beside them my other self stood, a little older and unsmiling. Beside him and tightly grasping his arm, as if to prevent his escape, stood a woman dressed in orange satin. It was Miss Caroline Bingley, and on her finger his mother's engagement ring sparkled. Her face shone too, with smug condescension.

"No! This cannot be!" I cried. "I would never engage myself to that woman."

The hood nodded, and the scene shimmered, and changed.

I recognised this place. It was my own rooms in Darcy House, and within was myself, reading in an armchair beside the fire. The connecting door slammed open and a red-haired woman stormed in. My older self sighed heavily, then put aside his book and stood.

"Fitzwilliam, I must insist we talk about this!" cried the woman.

"I told you of my decision before we were married. It is implacable and will not change."

"But you must have an heir!"

"I already have an heir. Georgiana, or one of her children, will inherit." He turned away from her and strode over to a window to stare out.

"I cannot understand why you will not do your duty to me, your wife," she shrieked. "I want a family of my own."

My older self swivelled to face her, his face like iron. "If you wanted a family of your own, you should not have forced yourself onto one who did not want you. When you schemed and compromised me, forcing our betrothal, you lost any chance of children. I will not touch you. I have never wanted to touch you, madam. Never!"

His wife shrieked in frustration, her face an unflattering shade of scarlet. "Then I will take a lover and any child I have will inherit!"

"Oh, I very much hope you will. Should you produce any offspring, it will be proof of your betrayal and I will be able to procure a divorce and be free of you."

Her face paled. "You would not dare! Think of the scandal."

"I care not what the world thinks. Georgiana is married so it will not greatly affect her. If it affects you or your family, then so be it. After their behaviour when you forced your presence on mine, I care not what happens to them."

She suddenly chuckled. "I will just have to find a way to make you consummate this marriage, then."

He smiled a small, hard smile. "That you will not do, madam. After today, we will never again reside in the same location. This single se'ennight has been long enough for my patience. Today, I leave for Pemberley. You will remain here. It will be no hardship I am sure, as you love town so much." She attempted to interrupt but he held up a hand and continued, "Should you decide to follow me there, I will be warned and leave for another location before you arrive, one you will not expect and where you will never be able to follow. I must also inform you that have spoken with my lawyers and have implemented some new rules. If you overspend your pin money, then you will not be given more and must use your own fortune, which has been released to your account. I have carefully watched your treatment of servants over the years of our acquaintance. You are now the Mistress of my homes in name only. Any staff you mistreat will be removed from your service and not replaced, so take care, else you may end up with no-one to serve you. You will not be able to hire or fire staff, aside from your own personal maid. The only person who can now do that is the housekeeper, and then only after she has written to me with the reason and for my approval. If you do not like these rules, you can use your own money to form a separate household."

His wife was so angry, she could not initially speak. She sputtered, red faced for some seconds before finally spitting out, "How dare you! Well! I wonder what Charles will have to say about this."

"I have no care as to what Bingley might say. He, now, has no right to interfere in our… I hesitate to call it a marriage, for it is a travesty of such. From the moment he insisted on our betrothal after your perfidious behaviour, he lost my friendship. I told him how it was, and though he admitted it was the truth, still he chose to side with you. He was, like you were, looking forward to gaining closer ties to my family connections. Because of that mercenary attitude, I will no longer associate with him. Or now with you. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever."

I looked on, horrified, then turned to the Spirit. "How did she ever manage to force our marriage? I must know!"

The Ghost stood, immobile and made no answer. The scene flickered.


	18. Chapter 18

Things in the future are getting even darker.

Content warning - domestic abuse, not detailed, in first half of chapter.

* * *

A slightly older Georgiana, tears pouring down her cheeks stood before me, and in front of her stood her husband. This Georgiana was obviously increasing.

"But James, why?" The pleading in her voice almost broke my heart, and I had to stop myself from going to her.

"Stop questioning everything I say, will you woman!"

"But I only wanted to visit before my confinement. I have not seen my brother since our marriage and that was three years ago. Why will you not allow it?"

Her husband sneered. "Because I wish you to stay here. You are my wife—my Countess—and you will do as I say." He moved toward her suddenly and gripped her wrists. "Won't you?"

She paled. "Of—of course, James. Whatever you say."

He released a wrist and stroked her cheek. "I just want you all to myself. Always." The stroke became a light slap as he gripped her chin and lifted her face to his. "Why do you not feel the same way?"

Tears filled her eyes once more. "I—I do. But he is my brother, and he loves me."

"Not as much as I do. You're mine, and you do as I say."

She forced a smile. "May he come visit us, then? I would wish to introduce him to our son."

"What part of 'I want you all to myself' do you not understand." He thrust her away and turned his back on her. "Always you try and bring others into our lives. I do not want others here, watching and interfering." His hands lifted to pull at his hair, then he spun around to face her again. "I think you need another lesson."

She paled and shook her head, backing away slowly. "No. You are right. I am sorry. Sorry."

He advanced on her, fists clenched by his sides. "I do not think you're sorry enough yet, my dear. But you will be. One day you will learn." A fist lifted, and he struck out.

I watched as my sister folded, arms around her belly, crying out that he would hurt the baby. "Spirit. Is this man deranged? I cannot watch more. Take me away from this place."

The scene flickered and we returned to shrieks of pain. We were in a corridor, and her sister's husband paced outside the room where the cries emanated. The cries built to a crescendo and then, after one last almighty shriek, there was silence.

Georgiana's husband stopped pacing and stared at the door. A child's cry broke the silence and he smiled as the door opened and a woman stepped forward.

"What is it? Girl or boy?" he asked.

"You have another son, sir," the midwife replied. She was spattered with blood and her face was unsmiling. "I'm very sorry sir. It was a difficult birth but at least the child is healthy."

"That is good news, I am pleased to hear it. May I enter?" He was still smiling.

"It's best not, Milord. We should clean up first. I will bring the child out to you in a few moments." She backed into the room and closed the door.

Before she closed the door, I dashed forward and slipped inside. I had to see my sister.

She lay unmoving in the bed. Her face was white, apart from a few purple spots on her cheek and chin. Bruises. There were more bruises on her pale arms.

I watched as the women in the room removed the bloody bed sheets, then turned away as they removed her bloodied birthing gown, washed away the blood, and dressed her in a clean nightdress. A clean sheet was lain over her body, covering all but her head and arms, and her hands were crossed over her chest.

And all the time they chattered quietly amongst themselves.

"It's no wonder the poor love just gave up— Look what that monster did to her— Her body, just covered in bruises— It's just pure luck the child survived, him being so early— At least she's at peace now— I'm just worried about the babes left with himself—"

Georgiana, my beloved sister, was dead. Finally, after all I had seen, I stood in the middle of my sister's death chamber and wept.

A short time passed, and the tiny babe, now clean and swaddled, was taken to see his father.

"I want to see my wife!" came a shout from outside the room, before he pushed past the midwife and entered. He hurried over to the bed and then stopped, catching up one of her hands. "Well done, my dear. We have another son."

Of course, she did not respond. Her eyes remained closed.

"Why does she not wake?" he demanded of the midwife.

"I did explain, Milord. It was a difficult birth. The… accident… did something inside her Ladyship. It brought on the birth too early. I'm afraid her Ladyship did not survive."

As the man howled, the Spirit's finger pointed to the door. I simply nodded, exhausted by the emotion of the scene, and passed through, but it was no longer the corridor on the other side.

My other self was back at Pemberley, once more in my own chambers. He was now even older, coughing from time to time as he lay in the bed, face and eyes various shades of yellow. Sat at the bedside was an unknown man. Judging by his dress, he was a legal man.

"Mr Stokes, is my will in order?"

"I believe so, sir," answered the legal man. "In summary, Pemberley and all other holdings, aside from a small estate in Newcastle and a small cash sum, are to be held in trust for your sister's second son."

My older self nodded, "For when he is of age."

"That is correct. To your wife, you leave the estate in Newcastle, and the sum of five thousand pounds."

"I had originally set aside the estate for my cousin, Fitzwilliam, on his retirement from service, but he perished on the continent years since. She may as well have it."

The legal man nodded, before continuing. "As you requested, some three months ago, we attempted to trace a Miss Elizabeth Bennet. We have, so far, been unable to locate her. Of the Bennet family, Mrs Bennet died some fifteen years ago, two years after her husband, and less than a year after her eldest daughter. The middle daughter, Miss Mary Bennet has also passed on. We have been unable to trace Miss Catherine or Miss Lydia, the two youngest. We understand Miss Catherine married but cannot discover her whereabouts. It appears that Miss Lydia eloped with a Mr Wickham shortly before her father's death and has not been seen since."

My older self became agitated at the name Wickham, muttering, "Will that man never stop wrecking lives?"

"We will continue the search, so that Miss Bennet may receive the legacy you leave for her."

"That is all I ask. I am weary now."

"Of course, sir. I will leave you to rest." Stokes stood, bowed and left the room.

"I am dying?" I asked of the Spirit, which bowed its head. "Everyone is gone, it seems, and my other self is alone. Still, I can't be more than three and forty, 'tis too young to die,"

The scene flickered and then we were in a graveyard. It was dark and still, apart from in one place, where a man was standing over a grave.

The Spirit pointed and I, subdued, moved toward the grave.

"And so, old friend, I beat you at last," slurred the man by the grave, waving a bottle of some spirit about. "I'm still living, and you are worm food. Good riddance!" He spat on the grave, then losing his balance, fell backwards, landing on his backside and dropping the bottle. "Dammit, spilt my booze. Gah!" He struggled upright once more.

The Spirit continued to point at the gravestone.

"Spirit, before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point," I said, "Tell me, are these visions of what will be, or are they only the things that may come to pass?"

The Spirit turned away and pointed.

"If a man makes certain choices in his lifetime, then certain ends will surely follow," I said. "But if those choices are changed, then surely the ends will not remain the same. Say it is so with what you have shown me!"

I moved towards it, trembling as I went, and following the finger, read upon the stone of the grave my own name, FITZWILLIAM DARCY.

"Spirit!" I cried, tight clutching at its robe, "Hear me! I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this night's work. Why show me this, if I am past all hope!"

For the first time the hand appeared to shake.

"Good Spirit," I continued, as down upon the ground I fell before it. "Your nature intercedes for me and pities me. Assure me that I yet may change these images you have shown me, by an altered life!"

The kind hand trembled.

" I will remove my Pride and my Prejudice and learn to honour love. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may wipe away the writing on this stone, and all those shadows of the future you have shown me!"

In my agony, I caught the spectral hand. It sought to free itself, but I was strong in my entreaty, and detained it. The Spirit, stronger yet, repulsed me.

Holding up my hands in a last prayer to have my fate reversed, I saw an alteration in the Phantom's hood and dress. It shrank, collapsed, and dwindled down into a bedpost.


	19. Chapter 19

Darcy has survived the night and the ghosts, but what will he do now?

* * *

YES! and the bedpost was my own. The bed was my own, the room was my own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before me was my own, to make amends in!

"I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!" I repeated, as I scrambled out of bed. "The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. Oh Father! Heaven, and the Christmas Time be praised for this! I say it on my knees, Father; on my knees!"

I was so fluttered and so glowing with my good intentions, that my broken voice would scarcely answer to my call. I had been sobbing violently in my conflict with the Spirit, and my face was wet with tears.

"I am here-the shadows of the things that would have been, may be dispelled. They will be. I know they will!"

"I don't know what to do!" I cried, laughing and crying in the same breath. "I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a schoolboy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A merry Christmas to everybody! A happy New Year to all the world!"

I near danced into the sitting-room and was now standing there, perfectly winded.

"There's the door, by which the Ghost of George Darcy entered! There's the corner where the Ghost of Christmas Present, sat! There's the window where I saw the grieving Spirits! It's all right, it's all true, it all happened. Ha ha ha!"

Really, for a man who had been out of practice, it was a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh. The father of a long, long line of brilliant laughs!

"I don't know what day of the month it is!" I said. "I don't know how long I've been among the Spirits. I don't know anything. Never mind. I don't care!"

I was checked in my transports by the churches ringing out the lustiest peals I had ever heard. Clash, clang, hammer; ding, dong, bell. Bell, dong, ding; hammer, clang, clash! Oh, glorious, glorious!

Running to the window, I opened it, and put out my head. No fog, no mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood to dance to; Golden sunlight; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious! Glorious!

I was still there, with my head out the window when my valet, Jenkins, arrived.

"Sir?"

"Ah, good morning, Jenkins! What's to-day!" I cried.

"Sir?" returned Jenkins, in wonder.

"What's to-day, my fine fellow?" I said.

"Why," replied the valet, "it's Christmas Day, sir."

"It's Christmas Day!" I said to myself. "I haven't missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course, they can. Of course, they can."

The valet, despite his training, looked on his master with some wonder and a modicum of concern, but remembering his training said nothing.

"I must dress," I cried. "There is so much to do, today. Oh, I will need a shave. I must look my best today, of all days."

"Of course, sir. I will order some coffee for you to drink, while I organise the equipment," said the valet, pulling the bell cord. "Will you be attending morning services, sir?"

"I will indeed. I will go with Georgiana, and then after we will dine at Matlock House."

"Very good, sir."

In less time than expected, I was shaved, dressed and galloping downstairs to the breakfast room, where my sister looked on with amazement as I entered, smiled and wished her a very Merry Christmas.

"Brother! Are you well?" she asked, her brow creased in uncertainty.

"I have never felt better in my entire life," I replied.

"Will you… Are you still planning to stay here today?" she said, a light blush on her cheeks.

"I will be wherever you are, Georgie. I thought we could attend church together, and then go to the Matlocks for dinner. I will need to visit with Bingley, later this afternoon, though you may want to avoid that visit." I winked at her, knowing of her usual desire to avoid Miss Bingley. "I have something to confess. Depending on what he says, we might be taking a trip out of town. Would you like to come to Hertfordshire with us?"

"Oh, yes, I've wanted to visit there since you first wrote to me about it. It sounds delightful," she replied, with a smile. "It seems a sudden decision. When might we be going?"

"I will tell you later," I said. "Come now, eat up. We have a lot to do today."

We left the house, arm in arm, laughing and smiling, walked through the streets cleared of a light snowfall to the nearby church for the morning service, then returned home for the carriage to Matlock house, the gifts we were taking there already stored within. It was only a short distance, but a little too far to walk in such cold weather.

The butler opened the door to our knock.

"Season's greeting my good man," I cried, ushering my sister in out of the cold.

"And the same to you, sir," replied the butler. 'May I take your coat and hat?"

Once we were divested of coats and headwear, the butler led us, in his usual stately manner to the main drawing room where the family had gathered.

"Darcy!" cried Colonel Fitzwilliam, a grin lighting up his features. "You came after all. I am glad of it. Come sit by the fire, warm up and let me get you a drink. Georgie, you too. You must be chilled."

Georgiana demurred being cold but accepted a seat at the fireside with a shy smile.

I said, "I did indeed come, and an drink would be most welcome." Accepting a glass, I then turned to my aunt, taking her hand and kissing it. "I expect Fitzwilliam told you of it. I hope I am welcome, despite my refusal yesterday. I am a different man, today."

"You are indeed welcome, nephew. It is good to see you. I was most concerned when Fitzwilliam returned with your reply."

"I must apologise again for my rudeness. I was unknowingly at a crossroads in my life and almost took the wrong path."

"I am intrigued. You must tell me more," she replied.

"Once I have something more to tell, you will be one of the first to know. At present, there is much to be repaired."

"Well then." She turned to the side and beckoned a young lady forward. "Let me introduce my newest daughter, lately married to my youngest. Mrs Sophia Fitzwilliam, meet Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy."

I took her hand and bowed over it as the lady dropped a curtsy.

"I am pleased to meet you, sir," she said in a soft voice, then she smiled hesitantly and glanced briefly at my youngest cousin, hovering at her elbow.

"I am delighted to meet you, Mrs Fitzwilliam," I replied, then looking to my cousin, continued, "I hope you will both be very happy in your future lives. I apologise for missing the wedding, but I hope to make it up to you from now on."

Her smile increased, and she used her spare hand to squeeze mine, before moving away with her husband.

I turned again to my cousin. "Fitzwilliam, I know where Wickham is." There was a sharp inhale from Georgiana, and I turned to smile an apology at her. "I'm sorry, Georgie, but this must be spoken of." She was pale but nodded her agreement and turned away to regain her composure."

Colonel Fitzwilliam had turned sharply at my words, a little of the spirit within spilling from the glass he was holding. "That scoundrel? Where?"

"He's in Hertfordshire," I replied, moving some little distance away from the others and beckoning the colonel to join me. "Somehow, he has managed to acquire a commission as Lieutenant in the militia garrisoned there over the winter. I need your help to stop him playing his usual tricks on the locals. I should have done something when I was there in the autumn but… well, let's just say I was not thinking properly then."

Fitzwilliam downed his drink, poured himself another, then joined me, growling, "If you want him running through, I'll happily volunteer, especially after his antics this past summer." He flashed a quick glance at Georgiana, who had managed to compose herself and was now talking quietly with her aunt.

I chuckled. "Let's leave that as a last resort." I pondered for a moment. "Do you think it would be possible to have him transferred to a line regiment that is soon due to travel to France?"

Fitzwilliam nodded, thoughtfully. "I'll have to pull a few strings but I'm sure it can be arranged. You may need to drop some blunt to make it come about, though."

"I doubt there's a limit on what it would be worth to me to have this problem disappear for good. You were right, he should have been dealt with a long time ago. Let us find him a regiment and a Colonel who can knock him into some sort of half-decent shape, and if he doesn't make it back from France, then I know of few who would mourn."

Fitzwilliam held up his glass. "I can drink to that. May I ask what's brought about this change of heart."

I stared into the distance, a half-smile on my lips, before replying, "Let's just say I was given a glimpse of the future and it was not shiny and bright."

"Well whatever brought it on, it's about time. You've been grouchy and moping about for quite long enough."

"Next, I plan on heading back to Netherfield with Bingley, if I can persuade him."

Fitzwilliam pondered a moment, then said, "Is not that woman you warned him away from not from there?"

"She is, but I was wrong in my reasoning and allowed myself to be influenced by his sisters. I shall confess to him after I leave here."

The colonel threw his head back and laughed. "Fitzwilliam Darcy admitting that he was wrong. Will wonders never cease?"

"I think we've established I've been wrong about many things recently, cousin," I said, allowing a slight irritation to tinge my voice. "Once I arrive in Hertfordshire, the plan is to visit the shops and the tavern to pay off his tabs. Having new debts to hold over him will not hurt when it comes to persuading him that his best option is war in France. I need to be careful though. I don't want him getting wise to the situation and running off."

"Well, if he deserts, it will go badly for him; desertion is a death sentence. It was a big mistake, his joining up. He must have been in dire financial straits to take a commission. Was he was paid to take it on, maybe, or did he win it at cards? He will not have had the money to buy it himself."

"I have no idea and did not ask. The last thing I wanted to do was chat with the man," I said. "All will become clear in time, I expect. In the meantime, I'll try and enlist one of the locals to make the enquiries as to his debts. It will be less obvious that way. Once I have a complete list, I'll pay them off. I can add it to those I already hold. If nothing else, they can be used as a threat—debtors' prison or the front line."

We laughed, toasted each other and drank. Shortly after the butler entered the room to inform us that dinner was ready, and we all went off to dine.


	20. Chapter 20

Some hours later, having left my sister with the Matlocks, I returned to my carriage and asked to be taken to the Hurst residence.

Hoping to avoid Miss Bingley, I asked to see Bingley, saying I needed private speech with him, and would it be possible to request his presence without disturbing the other members of the party.

"Of course, sir. Would you care to wait in Mr Bingley's study?"

"That would be most welcome," I said, nervously looking over my shoulder at the dining room door. "As quickly as possible."

Safely ensconced in the study, I only had to wait a few minutes before Bingley entered.

"Happy Christmas, Bingley. I come bearing a gift," I said.

"This is a welcome surprise, Darcy," He held up a decanter. "Drink?"

"That would be most welcome."

Bingley poured a brandy and passed me the glass. "Now, where's this gift?"

I hesitated for a moment, deciding on the best way to explain. "First, can I ask your honest feelings regarding Miss Bennet?"

Bingley's cheery smile fell away. "Honestly? I miss my angel most terribly."

I nodded. "In that case, I believe I was in error with some advice I gave you recently."

"Advice? To what advice do you refer?"

"When we all left Netherfield in November, I suggested that Miss Bennet did not feel for you the same way you felt for her. Having thought on it some more, I realise I was wrong and that she simply hides her emotions well. I recently had attention drawn to the fact that she and I have that in common. If you still feel that she would make you the ideal wife, I suggest you return to Hertfordshire and ask her."

Bingley's face showed dawning hope. "You think you were wrong?"

"I do."

"I must say, Darcy, this is a most rare occasion. I've never known you admit to a mistake before."

"I have decided to turn over a new leaf and cast aside my old ways. It is impossible to be always correct. I realise that now. I also realise that reserve, while useful in some circumstances, can be wrong in others. I must learn to be honest to myself."

"What has brought this on?"

"Oh! Just a dream I had."

Bingley appeared confused at this, but said, "Well, Darcy, I think I'm going to like the new you even more than I did the old you. Here's to the future."

"Salute." We shared a toast, both falling silent for a few moments as we thought of what was to come.

"About returning," said Bingley. "Do you think you would be free to join me?"

"I have unfinished business there myself. It is time Wickham was dealt with. I've roped Fitzwilliam in to help, but the sooner I return the better. If you cannot leave so soon, I was hoping you would write to open Netherfield for Georgiana and myself from tomorrow or the day after. I need to deal with the debts he has no doubt run up by now with the shop keepers there. It's a bad time of year for them to be owed the sort of sums Wickham will have run up."

"We return soon, then. The sooner the better, I say. How does a 12th night ball sound? Does this new leaf of yours include dancing more?"

I grimaced, then replied, "I'll make sure costumes are packed."

"Jolly good! Let us aim for travel the day after tomorrow. You know Caroline will kick up such a dust? She's been pushing me to give up the lease."

I grimaced again. "Let her. If she chooses not to come along, then Georgiana, with help from Mrs Annesley, can act as hostesses. It will be a good learning experience for her."

"I could just not tell her."

"On your head be it. If she finds out you've gone back to Netherfield and not told her, you know you'll have hell to pay."

Bingley laughed, then winked. "Especially if she finds out you will be there too. But just imagine how peaceful it will be until then."

The trunks were packed and loaded onto the Darcy carriage, and Bingley and his carriage had just arrived.

I helped my sister and Mrs Annesley into our carriage and moved across to speak with Bingley. "Would you like travel with us? It would be more cheerful than travelling alone."

Bingley nodded and exited his carriage, stopping to give instructions to his driver before entering our carriage.

As we pulled away, Bingley spoke. "I am excited to be finally on the move. I sent instruction to the housekeeper yesterday by express, so all should be in place when we arrive. At least the snow has cleared. My rider told me it was clear all the way to Netherfield, and the roads mostly dry."

"That is good news. The weather looks to hold fair, so we should make good time."

We occupied ourselves between talking, reading and staring out of the window at the passing countryside, until finally, I recognised we were drawing close to our destination.

"Georgie, we are almost there now. We're just entering Meryton village." I drew her attention to one of the shops. "We can visit this bookshop in a few days, if you would like."

She smiled and nodded, excitedly peering out of the carriage at the shops we passed.

On the street, some familiar faces hove into view, and I knocked to stop the carriage. It had not quite stopped when I opened the door and jumped out, closely followed by Bingley.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth!" called Bingley, "How are you, this fine day?"

"Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "We had not expected to see you again. Miss Bingley wrote you were fixed in town for the winter." She looked over at her sister, but Jane was staring at the ground, at the shop window, anywhere but at the gentlemen. She took Jane's arm and drew her forward. "We hope you had a pleasant Christmas."

Mr Bingley seemed confused for a moment, staring at Jane, so I spoke.

"We did, Miss Elizabeth. It was a sudden decision to return, made only two days ago. We hope we are not unwelcome."

"No indeed," she replied. "Do you plan on staying for long, or is this to be a short visit?"

"Our plans are not fully laid, but Mr Bingley, I believe, will be here for some time." I looked over to the carriage, spotting my sister peering from the window. "May I introduce to you to my sister, Georgiana who has travelled here with us?"

Elizabeth nodded and releasing Jane's arm, moved toward the carriage with me, leaving her sister and Bingley to begin a stilted conversation.

I helped Georgiana from the carriage and the two ladies curtseyed to each other as I made the introduction.

"I am pleased to meet you, Miss Darcy. I have heard so much about you. I understand you love music and play the pianoforte very well."

Georgiana said, "Oh yes, I do." Then she blushed, and hesitantly continued, "I mean I do love music and playing."

"Well in that case, you must visit the bookshop. He has an extensive collection of sheet music that you might like to examine."

Georgiana gave her a shy smile, raising her eyes briefly to Elizabeth's face, "I would like that."

ELizabeth was about to speak again when a shout interrupted her.

"Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bennet, well met indeed."

She looked toward the caller, as he came up behind my sister and I. The voice was familiar, and I stiffened, moving closer to my sister and drawing her arm through mine. "Courage, Georgie," I whispered.

"How is he here?" she whispered back, her face pale.

"He is the reason I have come back. Fitzwilliam and I have plans for him. Hush now."

Mr Wickham, for it was he, reached the party and bowed to the Bennet ladies and Bingley, before noticing us as we turned to face him.

"D-Darcy. G-Georgiana?" he stuttered, before regaining his usual calm demeanour, albeit with a higher colour than usual. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"They have just arrived in Hertfordshire, I understand," said Elizabeth, after the silence had gone on a little too long. "We saw them passing through the village and stopped to talk."

Still staring at us, Wickham asked, "And will you be staying long, this time?"

This time Bingley replied, "Some weeks, maybe months, I think. It all depends." He glanced at Jane by his side, who blushed, having been caught sneaking a look at him.

Elizabeth looked between us and Wickham, her brow furrowed, and I looked on her with mild frustration that I could not yet explain the situation. The time was not yet right.

"Well, we should be getting on to Netherfield. Can we give you ladies a ride back to Longbourn?" said Bingley, breaking the silence.

Elizabeth looked at Jane, who nodded with a blush. "That is very kind of you, Mr Bingley, if you do not mind. We were about to return home when you saw us."

"You are both very welcome!"

The Bennet ladies said their goodbyes to Mr Wickham, who seemed nonplussed by the situation, and were helped into the carriage, along with Miss Darcy. Soon after, we began the short drive to Longbourn.

We dropped the ladies at their home, declining to enter at that time, but promising a visit the following day once we were settled and had washed the dust of travel from ourselves, then the carriage turned and left for Netherfield.


	21. Chapter 21

The promised visit was undertaken the next morning within the usual visiting hours; Bingley and both my sister and I being eager to continue our discussions with the elder Bennet daughters.

Within the parlour, Mrs Bennet, and her three eldest daughters were busy about their various occupations, the two youngest already having left to walk into Meryton.

Mrs Bennet was warm and vociferous in her welcome. "Oh, Mr Bingley, I am so pleased to see you here again. I began to be afraid you would not come back. Some said you meant to quit the place entirely, but I hope that is not true."

"I have no plans to be leaving again, so soon, at present. I find I am very happily settled at Netherfield," he assured her, then gazed over to where Miss Bennet was seated, busy with some embroidery. He very soon was drawn over to her side, as if on a leading string.

"And Mr Darcy, you are very welcome," Mrs Bennet continued, less warmly than before.

"I thank you, Mrs Bennet," I replied, then drew my sister forward and continued, "May I present my sister, Georgiana, to your acquaintance?"

Miss Darcy blushed but managed to say she was delighted to be there, and Mrs Bennet, her motherly instinct aroused, invited her to take a seat by the fire and tell her all about the latest fashions in town, leaving me free to move and take a seat beside my object of interest.

"Miss Elizabeth, I hope I find you well, this morning?" I said, taking the free seat beside her.

"You do, sir," she replied, pausing a moment and then saying, "I was most surprised to see you and Mr Bingley in Meryton, yesterday. We had been told not to expect any return to Netherfield. Miss Bingley was very certain in her letters to my sister. Is Miss Bingley well, do you know?"

"When I last saw her, on Christmas Eve, she was well. I… I would not take Miss Bingley's letters to heart. She is not aware of all that has happened, since her last letter." I paused, and a small smile crinkled my cheeks. "In fact, I am not even sure Charles told her he was returning. He left her at the Hurst's yesterday morning before, or so I understand, she had risen for the day."

Her eyebrows rose. "Really? Miss Bingley is unaware of her brother's current whereabouts? How astonishing."

I cleared my throat. "He felt it politic to leave her in the dark about his intentions, for fear of… of stormy weather."

"His intentions?"

I looked over at Mr Bingley, who was leaning in to talk quietly with a blushing Miss Bennet, then smiled.

Elizabeth saw the smile and followed my gaze, her expression softening as it rested on her sister. "She is happy to see him again."

"Yes, I can finally see past her reserve. I am happy for them both, or soon will be I suspect." I looked back at Elizabeth. "It is a lovely day. Do you think a walk in the garden might be acceptable? Maybe Bingley and your sister might like to join us?"

She hesitated, looking at her elder sister, then nodded, put down her work, and stood. "Jane, Mr Bingley. Mr Darcy and I were just about to take a turn in the garden. Would you care to join us?"

Agreement reached, while the ladies donned their outerwear, I went to my sister, who had been drawn into conversation with Miss Mary Bennet, and asked if she wanted to walk or was happy staying indoors.

Georgiana smiled, a real smile of happiness, and her eyes sparkled. "I am very well here, Brother. Miss Mary and I have been talking about music and she is eager to show me her collection of sheet music. We might even try a duet. Please go and enjoy your walk."

The four of the party soon settled into two pairs, with Elizabeth and I falling behind to give Jane and Bingley some privacy.

"I am glad my sister has taken to Miss Mary. She has so few people of her own age to mix with. For her to find one with a real interest in music is most welcome," I began, after several minutes of silence.

Elizabeth started from her silent reverie. "Oh! Yes, I am happy for Mary too. As the middle sister, she has always been somewhat left out. I have always had Jane, and Kitty and Lydia are almost inseparable. Poor Mary really has no-one."

I noted a fork in the path ahead and steered us onto a different one to the other couple. "In that case, I hope our sisters become good friends while we are here. Maybe they need each other. I have not seen Georgiana so happy in a long time. Not since last sum—" I stopped suddenly. "I apologise, I did not intend to… Forgive me."

"Last summer, you were about to say. Shortly before you came here for the first time? I will not pry, do not worry. I am glad she is happy. No-one of her age should be sad for too long."

"Thank you." I looked about, noting that Bingley and Jane were no longer in sight. "We seem to have lost your sister."

"And your friend," she added, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Your fault, I believe. But I will pretend that I did not see you take the wrong fork on the path. Why, Mr Darcy, one might almost believe you were playing matchmaker."

I grasped my chest, as if my heart were struck, and groaned. "I have been found out. Oh, how can I ever make amends?"

Elizabeth appeared dumbstruck. Several seconds passed before she could speak. "Mr Darcy, you do not happen to have a twin brother, do you?"

"I do not. Why do you ask?" I grinned down at her and she stared, fascinated and wide eyed at my chin, where I knew a dimple was prone to form.

She shook her head, a half-smile hovering on her lips. "Then, I can only assume that you have a double. The dour Mr Darcy of the autumn and the jestful Mr Darcy of the winter cannot be the same person. You, sir, must have a twin!"

I threw my head back and laughed, while she stood there, nonplussed.

* * *

"I say, Darcy," began Bingley as he poured us both a drink in his study later that evening.

"Yes?"

"I must ask for your congratulations."

"Are you to be married, then?"

"Well, no, not at this time. But I am now in a courtship with Miss Bennet."

"I thought you were going to propose this afternoon. I deliberately steered Miss Elizabeth away to give you some privacy."

"Well, yes. So I was. However, Jane, Miss Bennet stopped me. After my defection this autumn she said she wanted to get to know me again, and so she would only accept a courtship for the moment."

"I see. Well, I can see her point. However, I do not think it will take you long to prove yourself to her. When will you speak with her father?"

"I plan on calling in the morning. Will you and your sister join me, so that I can escape to the gardens again and begin courting in earnest?"

"You know we will." I held up my glass. "Here's to a successful campaign!"

"Hear, hear!"

Permission was readily granted by Mr Bennet, on the following visit, and I was only too pleased to escort Miss Elizabeth, while my sister spent time with Miss Mary and Bingley with his Jane.

The following day, the Gardiners, who I had very much enjoyed meeting, left to return home. They had originally planned to take Miss Bennet with them for her usual visit to town, but this year, given the circumstances, that was postponed.

A few days after that, Mr Collins paid Longbourn an unexpected visit. Unfortunately, he arrived when the Netherfield party were in the sitting room with the Bennet ladies.

"I am very pleased to see you again, Mr Darcy," he said, bowing down so that his nose almost touched his knees. "My esteemed patroness, your aunt, Lady Catherine was only talking about you the day before I left and saying that she was hopeful your Easter visit would finally bring about the long-awaited union between yourself and her daughter."

Glancing around the room and seeing the shock on the Bennet's faces—although Elizabeth did not look so surprised—I realised I had to set things straight. This delusion of my aunt's had gone on for long enough. I spoke to Mr Collins, a chill in my voice. "My aunt has long wished for something that shall never happen. I have no plans to marry my cousin. I never did. It is a figment of Lady Catherine's imagination. Nothing more."

Mr Collins sputtered. "But… but Lady Catherine has long said that you have been engaged."

"My Aunt suffers from the delusion that if she says something frequently enough, it will come to pass. It will not."

As Mr Collins again attempted to inform me of his patroness's desires and how I must be mistaken, I drew myself up to my full height and, towering over the clergyman, interrupted his overlong speech. "Please do me the honour of knowing my own mind. My aunt will have no say in my choice of marriage partner, when that day arrives. That said, I will have no more talk of this. It was never my mother's wish that I marry my cousin. In fact, she wanted me to marry for love. I feel affection for my cousin in a familial way but have no desire for her as a wife. Furthermore, she is not strong, and attempting to bear an heir would likely kill her. I will not have that on my conscience. Would you wish me to become little better than a murderer?"

Mr Collins finally sputtered to a halt, and Mrs Bennet quickly turned the subject to another topic. His visit did not last much longer after this, and he was soon back on the road to Lucas Lodge, where he was staying until his wedding a few days hence, to Miss Lucas.


	22. Chapter 22

We spent the next few days traversing the road between Netherfield and Longbourn, sometime together, sometime separately, before Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived bearing news and transfer papers.

"I had to pull a few strings and promise a substantial donation to the war fund, but I found the ideal position for our mutual friend," the Colonel said, holding up a dispatch. "Would you care to join me while I deliver it?"

I shared a glance with Bingley. "I think we both would."

"And then after we can visit Longbourn?" suggested Bingley.

I winked at my cousin. "Of course. Besides, Georgiana is visiting with the Bennet's and I need to collect her. She and Miss Mary have become friends."

We set off for Meryton and Colonel Forster's office, light of heart and with a feeling that almost all was resolved. Colonel Forster was pleased to receive his guests and plied us with brandy before we got down to the paperwork. Colonel Fitzwilliam explained the situation and then produced the dispatch, which Colonel Forster opened and read. "Wickham is to be transferred to another regiment and shipped to France?"

"He is. With immediate effect. Following me was a wagon and some troops to ensure his safe arrival at port. It should arrive within the hour. Since Darcy arrived here last week, he has been busy documenting and paying Wickham's debts in town."

I extracted a bundle of Wickham's debts, all of which had now been paid to the town tradesmen. "I will also add, that, knowing Wickham as I do, it is likely he has run up substantial gaming debts with others in his regiment. I had no way of collecting information about those without gaining his notice and risk his absconding."

Colonel Forster's eyebrows rose as he flicked through the bundle, his eyebrows rising with each new page. "It is astounding that one man can run up such substantial debts in so short a time. And you say he does this everywhere he goes?"

I nodded.

"He leaves the area when they begin pressing for payment," added Colonel Fitzwilliam, "usually leaving behind at least one impregnated woman."

"I can only be glad these transfer papers will remove this man from my command. This sort of behaviour leaves a bad taste in the townspeople's mouths, and if we were to be stationed here again it would be disastrous. Positive relations with them would be impossible to recover."

We continued our discussion, and had moved on to general chat, with the Colonel's taking the lead and reminiscing over old times, when we were alerted to the arrival of the wagon. Then, Colonel Forster sent a lackey for Wickham.

By agreement, Colonel Fitzwilliam and I moved to stand behind the door before Wickham entered, to avoid his being alerted to our presence before he was inside the room. We knew he would struggle and attempt to escape given half a chance. As it was, he entered and strode forward, nodding to Bingley and saluting his Colonel. He never even realised we were there.

"Ah, Wickham. I have some orders for you," said Colonel Forster.

When handed the transfer papers, Wickham went white. His eyes darted from side to side, weighing up his options, and eventually alighting on Colonel Fitzwilliam and I as we stepped forward.

"You! I might have known you would again attempt to destroy my life. Have not you done enough?"

I shook my head. "What have I done, except constantly pay your debts and ensure your children and their abandoned mothers have somewhere safe to live?"

"After what you have done, you should consider it lucky you are still standing," added Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"I have seen the proof of your debts here, and they are substantial. I expect a full list of your gambling debts before you leave." Colonel Forster pushed a pen and paper across his desk before turning to his lackey. "Jones, go to Wickham's tent and pack up his belongings. Put them in the wagon outside."

Wickham scribbled a list on the sheet, his hand shaking. Pushing it back to Colonel Forster, he said, "Am I not to have any time to take leave here?"

"It is unnecessary. I will say all that is required when you are asked after and, Wickham, I will be honest with them. They will know you for who you are, I will not have them deceived any longer."

Wickham blanched and then paled even further when two line-regiment soldiers entered and saluted.

"Take him away, and guard him well until he's on board the ship," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "It is on your heads that he not be able to escape."

"Yessir!"

After Wickham was marched out, Colonel Forster shook hands with us all and thanked us for our help. "I despise men of that sort. If I had known of his activities, I would never have accepted him under my command."

Once outside, we watched in silence as the wagon turned to head back the way it had come. Wickham shouted abuse at me, and I stood stoically watching, until he was cuffed into silence by one of his escorts.

The townsfolk also stopped as the wagon passed, to watch the entertainment with unfriendly eyes, and muttering amongst themselves. Once the wagon was out of sight, one of them was nudged by his neighbours until he came over to us.

"Thank'ee sir," he said to me. "I've been waiting and waiting on himself," here he indicated the way the wagon had gone, "to pay what he owed. When young Bradley came round quietly asking about the matter and paying what was owed, well, we was beyond grateful. The missus and I'd've been out of business if not for you. Been speaking to others about town, too, and them's all sayin' the same thing. You've saved us and they asked me to say, them being shy n'all, that they can't thank'ee enough." He doffed his cap and moved away.

Walking back through the town to the livery stables, where the carriage was waiting, many of the townsfolk smiled, curtsied or doffed their hats. Word had spread widely.

"Mr Darcy!" The call came from an upper widow of one of the houses we passed.

I looked up and recognised the lady peering down at us. "Mrs Phillips?"

"I'm coming down and must speak with you. Please wait for me," she said, before closing the window.

"You two go ahead if you wish. I'll wait and see what she wants." At my cousin's enquiring look, I added, "Mrs Phillips is a relative of the family at Longbourn."

The front door opened. "Mr Darcy!" panted Mrs Phillips, "I was just speaking with the butcher. Is it true?"

"Is what true, ma'am?"

"Mr Wickham. That he is gone, leaving many debts all over town."

I nodded. "He is just now gone, that is true; transferred to another regiment. Do not worry, the townsfolk are well. The only debts now left owing are from his gambling."

Mrs Phillips' eyes widened. "Mr Wickham is a gambler?"

"He is," I confirmed, "and without a penny to his name. His tastes have always exceeded his income. Why, the three thousand pounds I give him, in lieu of the living he refused, only lasted him a couple of years. He has always had expensive habits."

I raised my hat and left her, to join the others at the carriage. She was speechless for the moment, but I smiled at the estimation that it would only take a short time from her recovery for the entire village to know the truth about Wickham, and that soon after, Longbourn would also be informed.

Just as we were leaving Longbourn having collected Georgiana, Mrs Phillips arrived, breathless and eager to pass on the latest news. She nodded to me as I climbed into the carriage and, as it drew away, I just heard her say, "Sister! I have such news from Meryton. Mr Wickham…"


	23. Chapter 23

We returned the next day and while Bingley and Miss Bennet wandered the garden. Miss Elizabeth, my cousin and I took another path.

Miss Elizabeth seemed quieter than usual, so I asked her, "Is anything the matter?"

She startled, "Oh, no. I was just pondering on some disturbing news I heard yesterday. From my aunt Phillips. You remember she arrived as you were leaving?"

"I do, yes." I looked at my cousin and shook my head slightly, then gestured with my eyes, silently requesting he give us some privacy. Seeing the two youngest Bennet girls elsewhere in the garden, he rolled his eyes, squared his shoulders and decided to join them. I could not blame his reluctance, as they had latched onto him the previous day. The red coat seemingly more of an attraction than the man within.

"She came bearing news of Mr Wickham. Most shocking news! I had no idea. He seemed such a pleasant man."

"He is very good at portraying what people want to see, I'm afraid."

She peeped up at me, briefly. "You know what has happened? The debts, the gambling, everything?"

"It is nothing unusual for him, I assure you. He leaves devastation after him, wherever he goes."

"Devastation you clear up?"

I shrugged. "I help where I can."

"I also heard a different story to the one he usually tells, regarding a living?"

I sighed. "I do not know what his usual tale is. In reality, he was well compensated for the living after refusing it. I suspect he usually leaves out that part."

"He does," she shook her head, "and I am ashamed to say I believed him. I thought I was a better judge of character than that."

"He has fooled many people over the years, my father included. I cannot tell you the entirety of my history with him—too much of it is not fit for your ears—but I have finally reached my limit on patience, which is why he now finds himself heading to France. I am hoping the discipline of the regulars will straighten him out. The militia was obviously not sufficient."

"My younger sisters cannot believe it is true, I apologise if they berate you for his absence. They have not yet learned to look beyond a handsome face."

"They are yet young, and the most dangerous person they may ever meet is now gone. They are safe, though they not yet realise it."

We walked on in silence for several minutes before she spoke again. "I was talking with Jane last night. I think she has long forgiven Mr Bingley for leaving."

"They do seem very happy together. I do not think it will be long before…" I stopped.

She stopped walking and turned to face me. "Before?"

"I will tell you a secret." I looked about, grinned, and then leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I think he will be speaking with your father again, very soon." I offered her my arm, which she took, and we strolled on again.

Not long after, the sun dipped behind a cloud, rendering the day too chilly to remain without much longer, and we turned back to the house.

I was correct. Bingley had his interview with Mr Bennet that very day and before we left, Mrs Bennet was organising a celebratory dinner for a few days hence.

When we arrived back at Netherfield it was to find Miss Bingley had arrived, along with the Hurst's. Miss Bingley was left in a swirl of fury once she realised her brother could not be talked out of his engagement. Remembering her words in my vision, I was on my guard. I alerted my staff, my sister, and my cousin regarding my suspicions and another room was prepared for me in secret, my valet sleeping in my room.

I spent a couple of peaceful nights in my borrowed room with no-one the wiser. The only problem was my valet complaining about the over-soft bed he was having to sleep in; apparently his back was missing the hard mattress it was used to.

The morning of the third day he came to rouse me with a strange look on his face. Once he had shaved me, and I was dressed in shirt and breeches, he finally said what was on his mind.

"I must appraise you of a disturbance I received in the early hours of this morning, sir."

I finished tying my cravat and turned to look at him. He was blushing. "Miss Bingley, I presume?"

"Yes, sir. Miss Bingley paid me a visit and was most inappropriately dressed given the temperature, sir."

"I feel for you, Jenkins. Was it very bad?"

He held out my waistcoat, which I threaded my arms into and buttoned up. "It would have been less unfortunate had not her sister joined her soon after. Miss Bingley had entered the bedchamber and was discovered in the bed, draped around my sleeping person by Mrs Hurst, and soon after that, her brother."

His face was blank, and unemotional as he related these events. I was unable to refrain from smirking. "Go on, Jenkins. I am finding this very interesting. What did Charles say?"

"Mr Bingley was most unamused, sir. He removed his sister from my person and, I believe, took her back to her own room. She was screeching most unappealingly, sir."

"I can imagine. Was that all?"

"No, sir. Mr Bingley returned to apologise and to enquire as to your location. I explained that you had felt the need to sleep on a firmer bed, and that I had located one for you in another room. I told him Miss Darcy had approved the move, as she was acting hostess at the time. I can only assume the housekeeper was not informed." His left eye twitched, in as close to a wink as he ever came, then he helped me into my coat.

I laughed aloud at this. "Very well done, Jenkins. Expect a bonus in your next salary payment. Let us call it… danger money."

"Thank you, sir." He bowed and left the room, leaving me to button my coat and head down for breakfast.

Bingley was the only other person in the breakfast room when I entered. He was frowning and had dark rings under tired eyes.

"Ah, Darcy. Good morning."

"Bingley." I poured a coffee and sat at the table.

"I assume your man has informed you of last night's events?"

"He has given me a brief overview of events. I cannot say I was not expecting something. As soon as she arrived and realised her plans for a union between you and my sister were no longer an option, I thought she might try something desperate."

"Is that the real reason you were not in your room last night?"

I nodded, sipping my coffee. "Jenkins has been most put out. His back is giving him problems and my soft mattress is not helping. He will be glad to resume his pallet."

"Darcy, I can only apologise for Caroline. I had no idea she would try something like this. I should make her marry Jenkins."

"I think Jenkins would be most unhappy about that."

"I have no doubt. What shall I do with her!"

"The way I see it you have three options. She remains in your household, but that is likely to cause issues once you are married. You know she will interfere with Miss Bennet's running of her household."

"That is true. Caroline can be very determined on the proper way of doing things."

"Her way is not always the right, or only, way. Your wife must be allowed to govern her new home in her own way. Besides, if your sister lives with you, I will not again place myself in the position where she could attempt another compromise."

Bingley ran his fingers through his already tousled hair. "You said there were other options?"

"She is of age, so you could release her fortune to her, find her a companion, and allow her to set up her own household."

"I could. What else?"

"She could go to live permanently with the Hurst's or another member of your family. Maybe your aunt in Newcastle. However, from her prompt arrival to discover the compromise, I can only imagine Mrs Hurst knew what her sister was about last night. They had obviously planned this between them."

Bingley had nodded glumly, and fallen silent, weighing up the choices before him, when Colonel Fitzwilliam breezed in.

"Good morning Darcy, Bingley. What was all the commotion last night?"

Mr Bingley groaned and slumped in his chair.

The colonel looked at him, then at me. "What? What did I say?"

In the end, Bingley decided to release Miss Bingley's dowry for her use. She was sent back to town with the Hurst's to interview for a companion, and Bingley wrote to have his man of business find a house for her to rent.

She went most unwillingly, complaining the whole way, by all accounts. But she went.

I think the whole of Netherfield heaved a huge sigh of relief, I could move back to my own room and Jenkins was most pleased to resume his hard pallet.

I'd like to say everything was resolved between us right away, and that Elizabeth and I were joined in holy matrimony soon after, but it took a little longer than that.

We were both there to watch Bingley and Miss Bennet marry. But I did not feel the time was right to ask for her hand until we met again in Kent that spring, when she was visiting her friend Charlotte Collins (nee Lucas) and I was visiting my Aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Our time apart gave her a chance to look inside her own heart and realise that she had already given it to me.

It was a fiery spring, when my aunt realised her plans for a union between myself and her daughter were to come to naught. However, Lady Catherine came off the worst during a showdown between herself and Elizabeth. No-one else could have rendered her Ladyship speechless, but my darling Elizabeth.

In case you were wondering, my cousins, Anne and Fitzwilliam, were cheering her on to victory.

Elizabeth has asked me, many times over the years of our marriage, what brought about the change in my behaviour and personality. I told her it was an unusual tale, one that she would likely not believe.

Still, she would not relent until I told her, so I promised to write it down for her to read.

I kept my word; this was my story.

* * *

A/N I hope you enjoyed reading this mashup as much as I did putting it together. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, have any issues with it or spotted plot holes I have missed. Feedback of any sort is welcomed!


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